


Archived Works

by lizzybizzyzzz



Series: Precious Peter Parker, Punctured Peter Parker, and Especially Everything In-Between [13]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man: Homecoming (2017), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Angst, BAMF Peter Parker, Bisexual Peter Parker, Fluff, Hurt Peter Parker, Parent Tony Stark, Peter Parker Feels, Peter Parker Has a Family, Peter Parker Needs a Hug, Peter Parker is a Little Shit, Precious Peter Parker, Tony Stark Acting as Peter Parker's Parental Figure, Tony Stark Feels, Tony Stark Has A Heart, Tony Stark Has Daddy Issues, Tony Stark Needs a Hug
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-31
Updated: 2019-05-18
Packaged: 2019-06-19 03:31:41
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 42
Words: 33,075
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15501372
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lizzybizzyzzz/pseuds/lizzybizzyzzz
Summary: These are my raw drafts that didn't quite make it anywhere, but are still something! Most will be fluff and have no real depth. They are also unedited and have NO PLOT! Thank you :)





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> follow my tumblr!!! i accept more requests there and will write small one shots literally any tome of the day
> 
> https://lizzybizzyzzz.tumblr.com/

No, Tony was definitely  _ not _ pouting. No matter what his douche-bag best friend was telling him, it was a clear no. So what? Not a big deal that his intern can't make it in for a few days even after Tony called Peter himself. He was allowed a life! 

"Tony, get your stupid ass up before I slap that pout off your face." Rhodey said, yanking his arm and forcing Tony to stand. 

"Aye, watch it! This suit is worth more than both of us." Tony shot him a look and fixed the wrinkles, laying them flat against his biceps once again. 

Rhodey looked at him with utter disgust. "What's wrong, man?"

Tony rolled his eyes. "My intern bailed." 

"What, after all these years you can't make your own coffee?" The other man chuckled and walked to the coffee pot, mug in hand. 

The rest of the day Tony and Rhodey bickered while flouncing around the house: busywork. Tony tried to think of anything beside how much he really did miss that kid when he wasn't here. Tony hasn't seen him in almost a whole week. It was odd, but he had to brush it off. He wants the kid to have a life outside of saving Queens from bicycle bandits. All was going good until Rhodey inevitably left him.

"I got called in, Tones." Rhodey had said, rushing around and grabbing his stuff. He looked frantic and tense like he always did when he had to go on a combat mission. 

"Anything I can help with?" 

Rhodey shook his head and with that, he was gone. Tony couldn't help but always wonder if that's the last time he'll see him. It was unlikely but not unrealistic. 

Tony grabbed his phone off the table and scrolled through his contacts.  _ Peter Parker _ . What's another call? It wouldn't hurt. He pressed the call button and cocked his head back in shock. 

_ Hey! This is Peter, uh- Peter Parker! Leave a message after-"  _

The long beeping noise echoed in Tony's head, furthering the multiple emotions bubbling around in his head. He ran his hands along the clear desk littered with Pepper's paperwork. 

_ "I'm going to sleep downstairs." Pepper said, her voice choked with something like sadness. Tony's brain was short-circuiting, underwired and fried. He wheezed and watched her walk away, holding herself where Tony's arms should have been. "Tinker with that."  _

_ Those words stung, they poked more holes in his lungs and the oxygen deficiency wasn't helping with the exhaustion. He sat on the bed and tried to slow his own breathing. It sounded like gasps and cries for help.  _

_ Weak. _

_ The Iron Man suit remained crumbled in his wake, he couldn't help but stare at them. They glimmered like trophies, like the stars he's so accustomed to. The stars he sees when his eyes close.  _

Tony takes a deep breath and clutches the table. He’s grabbing it so hard he’s shocked it isn’t shattered, but he is only a man. A man that was weak. A weakened genius was nothing more than an idiot. And that’s all Tony saw himself as. 

“F.R.I.D.A.Y., call Peter Parker.” He breathed. 

Yeah sure, maybe he should have called Pepper or literally anyone except a fifteen year old kid, but it was all he had. He couldn’t be alone right now. 

_ “Jarvis.” Tony said through his chattering teeth. “Jarvis. Don’t leave me, buddy.” _

_ When the Al didn’t answer again, he took a deep breath and sat back for a second. _

On the sixth ring, Tony hung up. He threw the phone behind him and sat in Pepper’s desk chair. He put his head between his legs and gripped his calves. 

_ “What about the Avengers?” Harley said, hope glistening in his big child-like eyes.  _

No, _ Tony prodded himself. Child eyes. He  _ was _ a child. Not child-like.  _

_ “Aye, kid,” He said, gently pushing Harley away from him. “Gimme a little space.” _

Where had Tony seen those eyes? Those child-like eyes, those big brown and sparkly eyes. 

_ “Kid, you alright?” Tony asked as gently as he could in the moment. He kneeled in front of Peter’s splayed body, praying the anything and everything that it wouldn’t stay like that.  _

_ Peter moved quickly, lashing out with a grunt. Tony easily caught his hands but the kid was strong. He kept squirming under his tight hold, making this almost impossible.  _

_ “Whoa.” Tony quipped, holding Peter’s arms in front of both of them. His mask was halfway up. His eye. His big brown eye, full of fear. Fear that Tony brought down on him. “Same side. Guess who.” He said, and Peter visibly relaxed. He was pushing his arms to his side but Tony didn’t let go. “Hi, It’s me.”  _

_ “Hey man.” Peter breathed, a look of relief washed over his smooth features. “Ah, that was scary.”   _

Tony tried to push away the lump in his throat, but no such luck. He closed his eyes and everything came back to him in one. He could feel Steve’s punches through the metal of his suit and hear the clanking shield clattering to the ground beside him. 

“F.R.I.D.A.Y.” Tony said, steadying his voice enough to be coherent. “The second Parker opens that damn phone, call him.” 

Much to Tony’s dismay, Peter Parker did not open his phone, didn’t even turn it on. There was almost no way for Tony to contact him. He could go looking for the kid, but if he didn’t want to be found then… 

It’s not like Tony lost him, Peter doesn’t just disappear. It leads him to worry to the point of drifting to the bar. It’s not ideal, Tony knows he shouldn't. He’s already disappointed literally  _ everyone _ he cares about, what’s a few drinks. 

He regrets it when the teenager himself swings the doors open and Tony watches the smile melt off his face. Peter didn’t even start his daily spiel before he was frozen in his track, mouth agape.    

“What- What are you doing?” Peter says, eyebrows scrunched. He’s holding his nose and clenching his jaw in pure disgust. 

“What’s it look like, Spider-Man?” Tony askes with a smirk. He abandons his drink and caps it, cocking his head. 

“I don- I don’t know what’s happening.” Peter gags. He’s pale and holding his stomach. “I need to get out of- ah, I need to get…” 

The sentence is cut off as the teenager walks across the room and down the stairs into Tony’s lab. He’s going so fast Tony watches the blur tumble. He follows slowly, placing a hand on the wall for support. He enters his lab and sees Peter in the same position, gripping his stomach and swaying.

“Easy, kid.” Tony says, approaching him slowly. 

Peter flinches away from him, something Tony never wanted to happen. It felt like his hands were hot coals and the child before him was the water he needs to cool down. 

“Mr. Stark, are you alright?” Peter asks softly. He’s holding Tony by the shoulder, their eye contact unwavering. “You’re alright, sir.” 

Tony closes his eyes and wheezes. He holds his chest and his knees hit the ground in front of his mentee, who comes down right with him. “Go.” 

Peter shakes his head and clamps down on Tony’s shoulders. “We’re okay. Right F.R.I.D.A.Y.?” 

“It appears Boss is having an anxiety attack.” 

“Right,” Peter breathes. Tony is holding him right back, if not harder. “You’re okay.”  

Peter overexaggerated his deep breaths for him. They sit like this for awhile, he lets the kid whisper in his ear, wipe his tears. 

“Let’s get you cleaned up.” Peter says, pulling them both up. Tony would deny it, but Peter’s doing most of the walking for them both. He isn’t even breaking a sweat as he hauls Tony to his room. He embarrassingly helps Tony into clean clothes, red-face and flushed, and pushes him into the bed.  

Tony pushes his pride aside and keeps the lights on as Peter uses the bathroom. He’s staring at the ceiling, the loneliness is almost too much again. He’s fathoming a time when he didn’t feel like this, but there isn’t a reality close enough. Nothing to anchor him, no saving grace’s or blinding super heros. 

Peter smiles at him, pale once again. “Have a good night, sir.” He’s sick, Tony can tell. 

“Kid.” Tony says, yanking his hand. “Stay.” 

His smile falters as he pulls up a chair. Their hands are intertwined and Tony tries to ignore the warmth coursing through his chest, his arms, his legs. They don’t talk, they don’t have to. Peter hums and zones out, his chest falling heavily. 

“You’re my saving grace, kid.” Tony whispers when he thinks Peter is asleep. 

Peter smirks and blinks lavily. “Yeah, I know.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "What the fuck." Tony whispered, rushing to his own room. 
> 
> He didn't know what he expected from his dorky mentee. The image in front of Tony was tearing at heart strings he didn't think existed anymore. 
> 
> Peter was snuggled into the bed, hands clutching at the duvet like it was a lifeline. He was in a yellow MIT hoodie and grey sweatpants. He was snoring lightly and his curly hair was splayed across his forehead. He looked peaceful, childish. What Tony didn't like about this was how fragile he looks. Tony knows for a fact that Peter Parker is not fragile and breakable. You can't shatter and break him.

After Peter started living in the tower with Tony, their relationship has become a little... awkward, to say the least. They'd been skipping around each other for weeks now, a step less than negligence.

Tony would deny it to anyone that asked but yeah, he misses the kid. He misses the nagging and laughing and breaking and blowing up his lab. Sure, the kid sometimes ruined millions of dollars of equipment every other day but Tony wasn't stopping him. How could he say no to Peter Parker? Anyone that could was either deaf or blind and Tony slightly wishes he was now. 

_"Kid, I'm leaving. I'll be back here to bust your chops in no time. Try not to call, but don't hesitate to do so." Tony says, carefully avoiding Peter's wide eyes. This is the first time he's leaving Peter alone since his aunt died. He's grieving, but he has to stay. Besides, school is good! School is fantastic and... Tony has nothing. He would gladly wrap up the kid and shove him in a suitcase and throw him in the trunk to go. Maybe not that violently, but it's the thought that counts._

_"When are you coming back?" Peter asks plainly, innocence is threaded through his voice and Tony wants to pinch his chubby cheeks. He's so child-like, pristine and holy. It's all Tony can do to not embarrass himself with giddiness._

_Tony ruffles Peter hair earning a hum from the child. "Before you can say, 'bye bye old man!'"_

_Tony memorizes the giggle Peter hashes out, the way his hair flops into his eyes and fingers curl into his palms._

The nostalgia is making him sick. Tony has butterflies in his stomach as he treads down the long hallway to Peter's room. Without bothering to knock he opens the door to an empty room. A bed that was perfectly made, laundry baskets and homework that hasn't been touched for a couple days. It looks that exact same as when Tony had left three days ago, unscathed.  

"Parker?" Tony says lowly. He runs a hand along the bed in the odd case that yes, Peter was just playing a prank on him. Peter would pop up from under those covers and scare the shit out of his mentor. 

No such luck. He looks everywhere. The closet, the bathroom even under the fucking rug. 

Okay. Time to panic. Peter wouldn't have just left. He wouldn't leave without saying anything. It stung a little when Tony hadn't gotten calls from anyone besides Pepper. Surely Peter would have something to tell him in three days. 

"F.R.I.D.A.Y., track Parker's cell." Tony said, forcing his voice to steady. 

"It's right next to you Boss." 

 _Fuck._ "Fuck!" Tony groaned, slamming his fist on Peter's bedside table. Where is he, Fri." 

The Al hummed in something like amusement. "Mr. Parker is in your quarters, Boss. He has been there for two days, seventeen hours, 58 minutes and 12 seconds counting. Would you like me to alert him that you are here?" 

"What the fuck." Tony whispered, rushing to his own room. 

He didn't know what he expected from his dorky mentee. The image in front of Tony was tearing at heart strings he didn't think existed anymore. 

Peter was snuggled into the bed, hands clutching at the duvet like it was a lifeline. He was in a yellow MIT hoodie and grey sweatpants. He was snoring lightly and his curly hair was splayed across his forehead. He looked peaceful, childish. What Tony didn't like about this was how fragile he looks. Tony knows for a fact that Peter Parker is not fragile and breakable. You can't shatter and break him. 

Tony easily got ready for bed, slipping into his pajamas as quietly as he could. His heart flutters when Peter groans and sits up, hands rubbing his puffy eyes. The eyes that light up in an instant once they set on Tony. 

"Tony!" Peter squeaks, leaping up and throwing himself into Tony's arms. 

He can't hide the chuckle that comes as he hugging the teenager into his chest. "Good to see you Pete. I'm glad to see you comfortable in any part of the place." 

Peter's face flushes a deep red and he untangles himself in the mass of arms. "I'm sorry sir, have a good rest of your night." 

"Hey," Tony says, pushing Peter back into the large bed, "did I ask you to leave?" 

The smile on Peter's face is worth it. The smile on Peter's face when Tony hugs him again with blankets wrapped around them is worth every penny in the world, more than that. Peter sighs and melts under Tony's touch. Is this parenting? This is parenting. 

"I love you, Mr. Stark." Peter whispers, eyes closed lazily. 

Tony tries to hide his own infatuations. His heart stops for a beat and he has to will it to start again before he says anything. "Those are some pretty big words, kid." 

Peter smiles softly. "I mean all of them. 

"I love you too, Pete."


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> a chapter from an old deleted work that i kinda liked

Peter Parker of course, didn't have the best morning. With his luck the sky would fall out and crumple on top of him. But God know he didn't have time for that. He was already being screamed at- despite everyone know that with his enhanced sensing, speaking would be fine- for holding everyone up. They could 100% leave without them and he could swing there but _no, Tony Stark must always get his way_.

"I can smell you hating me from the outside of this door," Tony told him, impatience clear in his tone. "Lets go, Spider-boy!"

Speak of the devil, Peter thought. "It's Spider-man." He grumbled.

"I call it like it is. Leaving in 5." Mr. Stark said, walking down the hall to irritate the other dormant superheroes.

Peter shoved everything in his bag as fast as he could and finally began to exit the compound. He wondered why this mission was so important and why they suddenly needed him to stay full time. He missed his bed, he missed Aunt May, he even missed her shitty cooking. He missed Ned and MJ and his Garbage-Projects of technical engineering and whatnot. He was grateful for Spider-man's alter-ego and the family it had gotten him, but he needed attention he lacked from Mr. Stark and all them. He needed his  _actual_ family back. His anxiety makes it very clear that this family will never be like his own, that the Avengers only use him for his mutations. They couldn't care less about what was behind the mask as long as he could fight- and he could barely do that.

A thick Sokovian accent yanked him from his thoughts. "Peter Parker." Wanda said, studying him. He was getting nervous with her eyes grazing into him. It was almost as if she was reading his mind. "You lack trust in us."

 _Oh, fuck, she_ was  _reading his mind._ "I-uh, don't-"

Before he could pull some answer out of his ass, the rest of the group was here. God, Peter stuck out like a sore thumb. He was muscular but still small compared to the heroes before him. His young age and awkwardness felt like his whole determining factor which drove him absolutely insane. They were constantly commenting on Peter's shortness and inability to operate a car. At least they didn't judge his poverty. That would send him off the roof. He wanted nothing more than to be seen as equally as powerful or at least as a  _teammate_. Most of the tie he couldn't even get that out of the adults. In this setting, Peter would always be alone.

"Listen up. There are multiple warnings of..."

He idolized Captain Rogers but he couldn't bring himself to listen in. He know he should and that he could potentially die if he doesn't, but that's rare. Besides he knew what his job would be, _staying low to the ground and protecting civilians-_ Peter could already hear Tony Stark's words through the comm. He liked his job but holy fuck was it repetitive. 

"... got that, Parker?" Rogers was glaring out him, knowing he zoned.

Peter felt his face burning red. "Yes, sir."

Captain Rogers's expression dropped all of it's authority and he smiled at him. The other rolled their eyes, some groaned.

"Who let this kid in again?" Clint quipped, meaning it to be funny. And it was to the others, but Peter found himself forcing down his anger. He was sick of this. He knew he was young and immature and incapable of solo-missions, he accepted it by now. But for one single mission he's like to not be reminded of it. The anger was boiling as they kept laughing. Peter  _definitely_ didn't think it was funny. The only one not laughing was Wanda. He was glad she understood but was still so angry that he just balled his fists and let his nail draw blood. "What, no... Spider-man arrogance today?"

Peter bit his tongue and took a deep breath.He wanted to say he lost it all when he died, but he couldn't bring himself to it. He knew Wanda knows what he wants to say,  _little bitch won't stop reading his mind_. This was confirmed when she flinched and her eyes widened to the size of Captain Rogers' shield.

 

He was brought out of his thoughts by a worried Mr. Stark. "You holding up okay, kid?"

Peter forced his anger to drain out of his and gave his mentor a small smile. "As I ever will."

Mr. Stark nodded in a  _we'll-finish-this-later_ motion. "Let's move out. Parker, you're with me."

 _Of course he is,_ Peter thought. He didn't complain though, he was lucky to even be here. He rushed to put his suit on and follow Mr. St- Iron Man. He still really didn't know what he was supposed to do. That would be a mess.

-

It of course, was a mess _._ The city-setting was a bed idea like always but the asshole villains like to fuck up as much as possible. Rubble and concrete was everywhere and it's dust hurt his lungs. Pet-no, Spider-man was bombarded with these alien-freak creatures that even Iron Man had trouble taking down. They were cunning and fast and hurt  _so bad_ \- that's where he came in. He was in fact the fastest Avenger and the smallest, meaning he was a small but deadly threat. He didn't radiate power like Captain America or quite literally Scarlet Witch but he has something. He couldn't place it but there was a quiet dignity in his overwhelming powers.

Spider-man couldn't exactly use his powers if he was on the ground, trembling from the electricity coursing through his veins and shocking him to near-death. His senses were all wonky now and he couldn't breathe even if he wanted to. His eyes rolled so far back in his head he saw all the stars in the galaxy. His electronic suit probably wasn't helping much. He couldn't help but hope that Karen would be okay, her being both of his egos' undeniable support system.   

He felt his head jolt back to reality as his mask was ripped off. His breathing became steadier as the electricity weakened to a stop. He felt his tear mixing with his blood in it's stream down his cheeks. He blinked and rubbed the shit out of his eyes just to dodge another attack. Iron Man yanked his mask back over his face and said something Spider-man still couldn't hear. He jumped back to his feat just to be hit to the ground yet again, at least he could now hear his bones crack on the pavement.

"Not cool, man." Spider-man got to his feet and rubbed his definitely broken ribs with a gloved hand. "Fuck."

He searched around for someone-  _anyone._ He was alone which made no sense, he was just in battle. He was just electrocuted and broken and bleeding yet he lacked any company. He checked the comm and Karen was gone, he ripped off his own mask which confirmed he was alone. He was more confused than anything-  _did they just leave him?_  Not even Spider-man but Peter Parker would lose his shit on everyone of those heroes he had called idols. He wanted to cry, he wanted his Aunt to tell him he's okay, he wanted Ned to hug him tight and perform their nerdy handshake. He would even settle for MJ's smile and even it's though made him blush. He would stare at it all-

"Parker!" Mr. Stark yelled, right in his ear too. He flinched so hard he hit his head. The man looked down sympathetically and called in for Banner.  

He blinked for a long time. "Where am I?" Dumb question, by looking at the ceiling he was in the Medbay of the compound. He knew so well because he was there all the time, it was like his second home.  He stared into Mr. Stark's dark eyes and saw them glassy and bloodshot. Was he crying? Peter pushed away the thought. Tony Stark didn't love or even like him enough to worry to a point of tears. Spider-man was an element of attack and stealth and all webs, Peter Parker was some nerdy intern used for his brains and coffee-making skills.

"The compound, buddy. What do you last remember?" Mr. Stark's voiced was laced with concern and was softer than Peter had ever heard it. His eyes were locked on Peter and honestly? He was a little uncomfortable. He never really had his mentor's undying attention unless he was dying or in trouble but now, Peter guessed it was both.

Peter told Mr. Stark about his loneliness, leaving out only the part about wanting to fight every single Avenger for leaving him, and maybe about how MJ's smile made him weak in the knees. He was still so confused but he was so tired he didn't care. "I love everything you do for me, Mr. Stark and I thank you but when can I go home?"

Mr. Stark cleared his throat awkwardly. He held Peter's shoulder and shifted in his seat. "Again, call me Tony. Mr. Stark makes me feel like I got one foot already on the grave. We'll talk about you leaving in a minute. For now, Wanda told me about earlier." Mr. Sta- Tony gave him a pointed but gentle look. "I want you to know, uh..." He looked around helplessly, his discomfort sticking out like a sore thumb. "Listen, When I recruited you, you're right, it was only for Spider-man."

Peter nodded. "I know, Mr. Stark. I completely understand-"

"Let me finish will you? Jeez." Tony cut him off. "I need you to know that I-we, don't just want Spider-man. He wouldn't be a hero without Peter Parker. I want you too, and not just because you're a genius. Because you're you." Peter smiled and tried to push his tears away. He could feel his heart beat quicken and become warn, but he decided it was the broken ribs. Nothing to do with how he wanted to curl into his mentor and cry because he finally felt needed. Definitely not.

Mr. Stark did the actual unthinkable and did exactly what Peter wanted. He wiped away Peter's tears and pulled him into a tight hug, forgetting about his injuries. Peter wrapped his arms around him and held tight to his tee shirt. "Peter Parker is just as needed as Spider-man, and even more."


	4. Anyone Can be a Father

Anyone can be a father, sure. 

Tony had a father, he financially provided for him, fed him, put a roof over his head. Tony's father made sure he wore a jacket and always kissed his mother before leaving for work. Sometimes Tony would walk in on him swaying to her soft piano playing, even singing along to the soft tunes.

Howard let Tony look at his inventions. He gave Tony spare metal, tools, a work space not far from his own. He looked over his homework and nodded without so much as a smile. He pushed Tony's lunch into his hands and pushed him into a car when his mother couldn't.

Tony's father mentally pushed him. Tony skipped multiple grades, he almost  _thanked_ Howard when he graduated college as a nineteen year old. 

He wasn't abused. Howard never hit him. Yeah, he said some shit that would mess with Tony's head for his entire life, but does that count? 

Tony's emotional turmoil was fueled by the derogatory words his father threw against him. He pushed them all the the back of his mind behind iron flood gates, they wouldn't break. 

Tony grew up with Captain America. 

_The hero I want you to be, Anthony._

"Hey, Mr. Stark?" Peter asked tentatively. "You okay?" 

Tony snapped up to look at the kid. His big brown eyes were glossed with concern and... affection? Love? He didn't deserve it. He didn't deserve this child's love, he's not Peter's dad. He's a mere founder, sometimes mentor if his anxiety isn't kicking him in the shins. 

"Lets, um- sit down." The teenager says, gently guiding Tony into the stool of his workbench. 

Tony's head is spinning. His vision is blurry and filled with hate. Tony would never be a dad, or at least a good one. He tried telling himself he didn't' want kids, that Pepper didn't want kids. Kids aren't everything! Who needs children? They're gross and sticky and loud and clingy. 

Peter clamps his greased hands on Tony's shoulders, realizing what's on them. He makes a face and wipes them instantly. "I'm so so so sorry, sir! I'll buy you a new shirt just uh... sorry, Mr. Stark." 

Tony pushes away his own grief and grabs Peter's hands in his calloused ones. He smiles up at the child, watching the pure idolization glimmer across his expression. He's known this kid for a year at that star-struck look hasn't changed. "It's alright, kid." 

Peter blushed and looks down, squeezing Tony's hands. "You know, you're my f-favorite superhero." He pauses to chew on his lip nervously. "Iron Man's alright too, but Tony Stark is d-definitely on top." 

Tony soaked in his words, marveled in them. He studied Peter's flushed-out red face in all his glory. He let his face show the love he couldn't out into words and prayed the child got the message. "Well, that's cool and all but my favorite superhero is Spider-Man." 

Peter's head shot up so fast Tony was shocked he didn't get whiplash. "Really?" He squeaked, voice raising four octaves. "I mean-uh, that's totally cool. He's pretty tight around Queens these days." 

The older man shrugged and pressed a kiss the the back of Peter's hands. "You know why?" 

Peter shrugged and waited for Tony to continue.  

"Because Peter Parker is the guy under the mask, but don't tell anyone I told you so." 

He watches his kid laugh and deny every good thing said about him, only to have Tony press his greatness further. 

So definitely, Tony isn't a father, he doesn't have kids and probably never well. 

Anyone can be a father, but not everyone is a dad. 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is not starker, this is parent-child relationship so fuck off 
> 
> enjoy chicos :) luv u


	5. Chapter 5

That's was new. 

The crack in Peter's back made him whine as he laid back on the soft couch. The contrast made his eyes droop. 

"Parker, what are you doing?" Tony asked, sounding exasperated. He was leaning over the teenager, eyes wide. 

"What does it look like?' Peter mumbled, letting his eyes close the last little bit. He didn't miss Tony's huff of annoyance before placing a hand on Peter's forehead. 

"Are you feeling okay, kid?" 

Peter groaned and sat up. His brain was foggy and he just wanted to sleep. His eyes were practically glued shut and he ran a hand through his hair. "Mmm fine, sir." 

Tony pressed two fingers against his neck and shook his head. "I think I'm sending you back home. I'll get-" 

"No!" Peter squeaked, making Tony jump. "Please, Mr. Stark. I can't go home, May would freak over me being sick." 

"So you are sick." Tony nodded, taking a disgusted step backwards. He sighed. "I'll get you some soup. We can watch a movie.' 

"That's really okay, Mr. Stark. You don't have to do anything for me, I just want to sleep." 

Peter watched the man's eyes soften and his lips turn up into a small smile. He nodded and outstretched a hand to help the teenager up. "Let's go, chop chop. I don't have all day." 

Peter was delirious. He could definitely see a new color now, his face burned hot. "Carry me?" 

"What?" 

"Carry me?" 

Tony gave him a look, he was contemplating before crouching in front of him. "Never mention this to  _anybody._ Especially Clint." 

Peter giggled and carefully climbed onto his mentors back, pressing his cheek into Tony's back. 

"Ya know," the man huffed. "For an insect you're pretty fucking heavy." 

"You're just pretty fucking old." 

Tony stopped in his tracks, right at the top of the stairs. "What did you just say to me?" He teased. 

Peter patted his chest . "Old age suits you, Mr. Stark." 

"Never swear again, kid." Tony said, pushing Peter's bedroom door open. "It sounds like a toddler trying to rap Rockstar." He faked a shudder. 

Peter managed a laugh as he hopped down into his bed. 

"Wait, you need to get out if that hoodie." Tony cut himself off when Peter whined, letting himself soften once again. "I know buddy, but your body temperature is too hot." 

Peter knows he's acting like a child. The mental tantrum he's throwing is bizarre between his eyes. He clenched his jaw and balls his fists to keep his nausea at bay. He pulls the sweatshirt over his head and shivers as his bare chest hits the cold air around them. 

"It's okay. It's going to be better soon. Just wait it out." Tony cooed, pushing him back into the bed. "Go to sleep." 

Peter nodded and leaned into Tony's hands carding through his hair. "Thanks, Tony." 

He doesn't miss how the man is fighting against his own smile. "Can't have a sick Spider-Baby in my living room, right?" 

He shrugs. "You could have, although it's not a good centerpiece if you like your guests." 

Tony snorts and looks down at the sick kid. "It okay if I sit here?" 

Peter nods instantly as he flips onto onto his stomach. His face is mushed against the pillow and his one leg bends oddly in the position. 

Tony pressed into Peter's skin, kneading through the tight knits knots in his muscles and swiping his thumbs at the prominent bones. Yeah, it's awkward as fuck, but Peter'll take the comfort where he can get it.

"Thank you, Mr. Stark." Peter mutters, it's barely understandable. 

Tony smiles and sighs, working out a particularly bad knot in Peter's shoulder. "Yeah, kid." 

"Mr. Stark?" 

"Yeah, kid." 

Peter huffs out a sleepy breath. "You'll make a good dad." 

Tony is quiet for a few minutes until the knot is gone and Peter is humming contently. "I'm workimg on it, kiddo."

Finally he's sleeping, letting the hand glide across his sweaty skin like it'd some ice contraption.

 


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> this used to be dilema of a dreamer, but i wanted to make that one better

_"If you even cared you'd actually be here!"_

Those words stung, just thinking about them made his arm twitch in remembrance. He wanted to rip out his vocal chords for yelling at the kid. Howard Stark was laughing at him in his subconscious, taunting his at every mess he made. Tony was no better. Nothing more than the demon of a father that his own was, a shell of a parent. 

Tony's insecurities wash over him like a personal tidal wave. It coursed through his veins and out of his mouth as screaming word-vomit that he couldn't control. Every time he yells at Peter he sees his fathers face, smiling down at him.  

The implication haunted him. Does Peter think Tony doesn't care about him? He cares more than he should. He's getting attached. Peter takes up spare time he didn't know what to do with and Tony isn't one to complain. When Peter isn't here, it's lifeless. When Peter is there, it's chaotic and blissful in only the way children can bring it. 

Tony's mind flashes to the countless sleepless nights he laid awake and wondered why he wasn't worth loving. He wondered why Howard was never proud of him, why he ignored him and gave him cold looks. Every time he'd make a new machine or improvement there was always a glisten of hope that his father would approve. That Howard would get giddy and coo at Tony's work. 

It never came. 

Peter risked his life for Tony's approval and he was  _livid._  Mostly at himself for ignoring the little genius, but also at Peter. Mad at Peter for presuming that he was nothing for than his suit, nothing more than the pest that bit him. Not worth Tony's time. His  _fuck-it_  attitude really struck Tony's nerves. 

Peter Parker, the sophomore in high school, fifteen year old science geek risked his tail to prove something he already was. To prove he was worth something more than the red and blue spandex that circled his small frame. He was worth a million of those damned suits. 

Peter risked his life, his precious and pure self for  _Tony Stark._  They're too different, when he looks at Peter he sees what he wishes he was. It's the landscape of a hero Tony has wanted to be for so long. There's downsides. 

Peter overlooks consequences. He thinks his life is less than others when it's far from it. It's quite the opposite. Peter give Tony faith in future generations even thought they're no better than the rest. Peter is. He is better than the rest and there's no doubt in Tony's mind. 

Tony Stark wasn't worth half of Peter Parker. 

Anyone would smack him for saying that.  _Peter_  would smack him for even thinking it. 

Tony wants to be to Peter what he'd never had himself. It's a complete invasion of privacy, but he had a whole background check on him even after Pepper and F.R.I.D.A.Y. told him it wasn't a good idea.  _What if he has a criminal record_ Tony had spluttered. That earned him an eye roll and a half but they didn't stop him. 

Tony snapped away from his depressing thoughts when he heard a crash, a curse, and a  _lot_  more cursing. Steve Rogers would be flushed at this language. 

"Mr. Parker has obtained lacerations on his foot, Boss. He is in the kitchen." 

"Why is he awake?" Tony asked aloud, not really looking for an answer.

Of course, F.R.I.D.A.Y., bless her mechanical soul, gave him an answer. "Mr. Parker never fell asleep. He has been in the lounge for approximately 5 hours, 29 minutes-" 

"Okay, okay, I get it. I'm a bad dad, just say the words." 

She didn't answer, which was an answer in itself.

Tony grumbled as he climbed the stairs right into the kitchen. His jaw clenched on impulse as he heard Peter's shaky voice and saw his frantic cleaning. There were glass shards everywhere, some were painted with blood that Tony prayed to god wasn't Peter's. 

When did Tony ever get what he wanted. 

"H-Hey, Mr. Stark!" Peter said, forcing the enthusiasm. It made Tony sick. Peter's eyes were puffy and his face was red with embarrassment as he frantically wiped away blood on his shirt. "I, uh- I broke one of your bowls and I am so so so sorry. I really didn't mean to but I was rushing, you know how it is! I can buy you a new one and I- ah, understand if you don't want me here anymore-" 

"I'm gonna stop you right there." Tony said, placing a hand up in the motion. He ground his teeth even more when he saw the anxiety bubble across Peter's features. 

"I'm sorry, sir-" 

"Stop apologizing." Tony snapped with more force than he'd meant. 

Peter's mouth opened but words never came out, and Tony hated that he did that. He just practically yelled at his child  _again._ While he was apologizing for no big deal. Peter shifted uncomfortably as his foot bled along the tiles, making more of a mess than anything.

Tony sighed and kneeled next to Peter's foot, taking it onto his knee. Peter squeaked and tried pulling it back, excuses flowing from his mouth so fast Tony could barely comprehend them.

"I'm fine, Mr. Stark! Really it's just a little cut, I'm fine." 

Tony looked up and rolled his eyes at the boy. He realized how tired the teenager really appeared. His hair was sticking up and the bags under his eyes were darker than Tony had ever seen them. Peter's hoodie hung from his shoulders like a blanket, it covered his knuckles like a glove. His eyes were dull and half open, fluttering eyelashes to stay awake. 

Tony just ignored him and grabbed a first aid kit. He cleaned Peter's foot, happy that the cut wasn't deep and wouldn't need stitches. Tony's blood was  _boiling_  however. He knows that Peter would rather bleed out on the floor than call for any type of help. 

"Sorry, sir." 

"What did I just say about apologies, Peter?" Tony said, trying to contain his annoyance. He wrapped Peter's foot and gave it a small pat, overlooking the blood stains on his sweatpants. 

"You didn't have to do that. It'll be healed by morning." Peter said stubbornly. He stared at the floor blankly where his blood was drying against the white tiles. 

Tony flicked him between the eyebrows. "Quit the hero- complex. It gets old fast, kid. Don't say sorry, god, please don't." 

Peter's mouth stayed shut as he stared at Tony. That look was drilling into him, making him feel bad for everything wrong he'd ever done by the kid. Peter's eyes were like bullets and Tony's heart was the target.  _Bulls-eye!_

Tony cleared his throat, hoping to slice through the awkwardness of this situation. "Care to tell me why you're awake at the ungodliest hour?" 

Peter shrugged, looking back to the ground. "Couldn't sleep." 

He could feel his patience wearing thin. "Why?" Right to the point, hopefully Peter would be the same. 

"Thinking." 

Tony's straining back his sarcasm. "About what." He doesn't phrase it as a question, it's a demand. "I'm not getting any younger, spare he the decency."

Peter took a deep breath and closed his eyes. As this conversation went on they had been getting redder and more glassy. "I'm not good enough for this, Mr. Stark." 

That hurt. That hurts so bad Tony has to bite his lip to keep from screaming. It feels like a piano was dropped on his head and he was going musically insane. 

The child in front of him felt like Tony did his whole life. He felt unworthy. He felt useless and weak, two emotions Tony knew by heart. The two emotions that did not fit across Peter Parker's quivering lips. Along his smiling face, his young calloused hands. 

"You are." Tony says easily. The words taste bitter in his mouth, the ones he's swallowing back are so much better.

_"You're worth a thousand stars, a whole galaxy."_

"Are you sure?" Peter says with unease, a tear slips down his cheek and he wipes it away quickly. He won't look at Tony, only stares at his blood on the floor. He's biting his bottom lip and closing his eyes so more tears don't escape. 

"Of course I'm sure." He says, putting a hand on Peter's shoulder. 

It's not enough. It'll never be enough. Tony should hug him, should wrap his arms around him and never ever let go. Tony should kiss his forehead and serenade him with how much he's loved. He should ruffle his hair and squeeze him so tight he never forget the feeling. 

"If you say so." Peter breathes, rubbing his neck. 

Tony gives Howard the middle finger in his head. His heart breaks when Peter viciously wipes at his face, trying to rid any marks of weakness. 

"How about we sit, I'll make you breakfast." 

Peter hugs him. Peter wraps his arms around Tony's shoulders and squeezes tight. The older man can't even react before it's gone, the warmth was extinguished and replaced with absent coldness. It's quick and awkward and is burned into Tony's memories. His arms lay helplessly at his sides like they always did. He wants to scream, pull the kid in longer and forever.

"I actually have to get going, Mr. Stark. I'll see you around." 

Tony hates himself for his slow reaction times. Without a word he nods and watched Peter scamper away, arms wrapped around himself again. God _, god_ , he fucked up. Peter is going to leave here thinking he's worthless, he will each time.  

"F.R.I.D.A.Y., tell Parker to come back here." Tony says, covering his eyes with his hand. 

"Mr. Parker has already left. Would you like me to connect you through Karen or a phone call?" 

Tony sets his jaw. "No, F.R.I.D.A.Y., just send him a text." 

"Containing what message, Boss?" 

He closes his eyes and huffs out a breath. "Tell him to come back tomorrow. And... And that I..."  _love him._ "That he's a good kid." 

F.R.I.D.A.Y. hums and he sense her disappointment. "Is that all you want to say, Boss?" 

Tony shakes his head. "Yes."

 -

Tony Stark isn't a parent. To anyone that needed that confirmation was plain  _stupid._ They know what kind of man his father was, what he's done. Howard fucked him up for good and god help him if he messes up Peter's life too. 

It's not like he's Peter's dad. No no  _no,_  not dad. Mentor, sometimes baby-sitter and anything in between. Tony tries not to hover and helicopter over Peter like he's made of fine china. He knows how strong that Spider-Kid is. He can hold his own, but Tony has his doubts. After all, kid's not made of vibranium either.

It's times like these where he  _really_ wonders. 

That careless and absent-minded mask he throws on is wasted. 

"Boss, it appears that Mr. Parker's balcony doors have opened and shut behind him." FF.R.I.D.A.Y. alerts him.

Tony groans and throws off his duvet, making the long trek down to Peter's room. He shivers a little, kinda hating himself that he forgot his sweatshirt. Peter's probably freezing and without a jacket,  _damn kid._

Without bothering to knock, he opens the door and quietly steps in. He rolls his eyes at the view in front of him. 

Peter Parker no,  _Spider-Man_ is standing on his balcony, gripping the rail so tight it probably has a his hand-imprints. His hair is blowing all around, the curls knotting in their place. Despite his suit on he's shivering, Tony can hear his teeth chattering from across the room. 

"Hey, Dipshit!" Tony yells, grabbing a blanket from his messy bed. "Get your ass in here before I haul it." 

No movement. Tony really doesn't want to do this tonight. He wants to rest but this teenager is being angsty. If Peter doesn't sleep, Tony doesn't sleep. It's like they're connected spiritually and dreamily. That doesn't make sense but can you blame him? It's four in the morning and he's a little scared that Peter's going to jump of that ledge.

"Parker, you have 5 seconds, starting now." 

Nothing. Peter didn't move a muscle. Only his hair moved with the whistling of the wind. His suit glimmered it's red and blue colors in the dark.  _Spider glowstick,_  he thought to himself. He bit his lip to hide his chuckle as he walked onto the balcony. 

"Christ kid, it's freezing." Tony said gently, securing the blanket around his bony shoulders. First order of business is getting this kid to eat more. He eats like a bird and Tony knows for a fact that he needs to eat three times as much as he does. "How 'bout we head inside and get you out of that." 

Peter was snoring. His eyes were closed and he looks the same as he does when he falls asleep on the couch, and in the lab. Tony should put a couch in there for when he does that. Peter's going to have serious neck and back problems if he hunches in his sleep too much, Tony would know.

He's fucking sleepwalking. Peter put his suit on, lacking of his mask, and was ready to fight. Maybe it's his inner guilt-complex screaming  _sleep is for the weak_ repeatedly. Maybe he just wanted some air or wanted to be in his suit! Maybe he  _didn't_  want to purposely bunny-hop off the tower and give Tony an aneurysm. His heart skipped a beat that Peter subconscious self would, in fact, go to a high ledge and shimmy on over. Tony didn't want to think about what would happen if F.R.I.D.A.Y. hadn't woken him up, sometimes she didn't. She'd wake up anyone else and they'd handle Tony's problems much to his dismay.  

He sets his hands on Peter's and pulls it off the rail, the other rests on his shoulder. "Wake up, Parker. C'mon, can't have you swinging along the big NYC unconscious, can we?" 

Peter scrunches his eyebrows and wraps his arms around himself. Tony notices that he does it when he's upset, seeking comfort from himself because he doesn't think that anyone else will. It tugs on Tony' heart more than he'd ever admit. Sure, he wasn't about to just give away his affection. Peter Parker was more than deserving of it, anyway. There's was a quiet dignity about receiving closeness from children, he couldn't deny that he liked it. 

Tony sighed and planted his hands of Peter's toned back. He was only slightly amazed but more worried than everything. The bones poked through the suit in all the worst ways. It was another wistful thing to add to his stress list. Maybe a little too hard, Tony slapped the spider emblem on Peter's suit, causing it to wrinkle off of him. Thank god this kid had boxers on, or he could effectively sue the older man. The blanket fell on the ground, carelessly forgotten.

Peter was whining now, digging his nails into his sides hard enough to scratch and bleed. Tony shook his head and grabbed his hands once more, taking them into his own. He runs his thumbs along Peter's knuckles to sooth him but he still jolts. Tony leads him back into the bed, pulling the blankets up to his chin. 

Tony feels like he's invading the teenagers privacy now. He's staring at him shift and tangle himself in the blankets. He's not having a nightmare because when he does, he screams and kicks and throws absent punches into the air. Tony would know, those hits  _hurt._  It's filled with all of his super-strength and dead-on accuracy.

He runs a smooth hand thought Peter's hair and is shocked when he lays still, a sigh leaving his lips. _Bingo._  

Tony stays here for awhile, combing through Peter's hair, making sure the huffs of sleepy breaths still come. He's never seen Peter so relaxed, so at ease. He wants to pinch the kid's cheeks and feed him home-mad cookies. He wants to hug him and never let him out of his sight. 

Tony's getting attached. He thinks about the fear and absolute terror he felt when he saw Peter laying motionless on the ground. He hates himself for ignoring the kid after that. He remembers watching Happy's phone ring out and a grumble of  _stupid kid_ leave the security guard's lips. He hates that he ignored Peter's potential for this long. He hates that Peter feels the need to comfort himself and never tell people when he's hurting. It's too... Tony Stark.

Peter sighs when Tony runs a thumb over his cheek bone. Crafted and adorable, his jawline. His button nose, the freckles on his forehead. He memorizes every inch of the child's face. He runs another hands through his soft hair and even over his chin.  _Adorable._

Tony feels like apologizing. Saying sorry for all the days he left Peter alone, all the times he pushed him away. He wants to say sorry for every second he yells at him, even if it is 'tough love.' Peter Parker deserves better than what he's stuck with. 

"You're gonna be the death of me." 

Peter smirks, much to Tony's horror. He cracks a sparkling brown eye open and looks right at him. "I'm offended you think I'd let that happen." 

Tony scoffs at his cockiness. "When did you get to be a smart ass?" 

"I guess hanging around you does the trick."  

"Hey!" Tony pushes a finger onto Peter's chest. "If it weren't for me the sidewalk would be painted with your internal organs. We have to have a serious conversation by the way, about exactly  _why_  you looked ready to swan dive onto the street." 

Peter rolls his eyes and snuggles deeper into the bed, a smile never faltering. "So, are we having a slumber party?" 

"Go to sleep, Peter." 

"Yessir."


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> INFINITY WAR SPOILERS

_Peter was asleep._

_This has to be a dream- no, nightmare. This can't be happening._

_The world hates him, wants him dead before he's even lived._

_"Pete..." Tony said softly, stumbling into his arms._

_Peter held Tony so tight he was scared of him breaking, like he would break ever bone._

_Everything was breaking, crumpling to be exact._

_"It's okay, Mr. Stark." Peter managed, his voice cracking. That lump in his throat felt permanently attached._

_Tony clutched him like he never had before, he was clawing at the metal of the suit and holding the back of Peter's neck. His breathing was heavy and uncontrolled._

_"I'm sorry."_

_As they tumbled to the ground, Peter was crying. His tears dripping onto Tony's cheeks as they crumpled, he turned to ash._

Peter shot up quickly, unable to contain his sobs. 

 _Tony._  

He pushed himself to his feet and scrambled into the lab, shoving the doors open with so much force it left a dent. 

"Aye! Careful, kiddo." Tony yelled without looking away from his project. 

Peter sobbed, making the man's head snap up. "Tony!" He whined through his tears. 

His mentor was on him in an instant. He was gathering Peter's shaking body into his arms faster than anyone ever had before. His hands were rubbing across his sweaty back and lips were pressed to his temple. 

Peter gripped his tightly and in his haze pressed two fingers to the pulse point on Tony's neck. The man shivered under Peter's cold fingers but he didn't move them. 

"We're all okay, okay?" 

Peter nodded and tugged him closer if possible. 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i know this sucks, bare with me


	8. happy birthday baby

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> <https://lizzybizzyzzz.tumblr.com/post/176887413986/mb6006-infinity-war-broke-me-but-here-have>

Tony sloshed the drink around in his hand, letting the other linger on the messy bed beneath him. 

This room screamed _Peter Parker_ , every ounce of it.

The Star Wars posters, the physics homework splayed across the desk next to a suspicious amount of half-snapped pencils. The clothes thrown everywhere, pens, Legos and paper littered the floor. Tony also found a few of his hoodies under the kid's pillows, but don't ask how he would have fond them. 

He put the small box under the pillow under the collection of sweatshirts. Most of them were branded with MIT and Stark Expo that Peter insisted on wearing. They smelled like the kid now, and Tony was grateful when he slipped one over his head. It was the one he saw most often on the teenager's body. It was red and had his logo on it in white lettering, Tony's least favorite. Peter said the usual grays and blacks of their clothes line was 'funeral fun worthy,' whatever the fuck that means. So, being the man that he was, he specially ordered this for his kid. He even had it a size too big, just the way he liked it so he could wrap himself up for warmth.

In the box was a car key. Nothing special, a black 2018 Honda Civic. He had bought the car before begging May for permission, she only settles on _'nothing flashy.'_ Tony knew this though, it was the car hanging center on Peter's bulletin board that he'd shown Tony when he was drugged up by some criminal he fought. He had dragged the billionaire in by the sleeve and slurred his words, jabbing at the photo. He giggled and brought out pocket change and threw it in the car that scribbled _'car fund'_ on the front. Tony smiled and threw his own money in, refraining from throwing his checkbook into the mix. Peter thanked in for the crumpled ten dollar bill with a dopey smile and a lazy hug. 

"Happy birthday to you," Tony began singing, ignoring his already cracking voice. He kept it quiet as the clock beeped midnight. 

"Happy birthday to you," a tear. 

"Happy birthday dear Peter," two more follow. 

"Happy birthday to you." 

Tony takes a deep breath and studies the pictures taped to the walls. Peter insisted that they didn't have frames ( _"that's too fancy, Mr. Stark!"_ he had whined). His best friend, Ned is in most of them and there's a few of a curly haired girl that was smiling. The expression looked foreign to her features, but he didn't dwell over it. Peter wasn't in most of them, they lacked his deep smile. There was one tinted brown of a couple that could only be Ben and May Parker. They were both laughing and holding their arms out to the camera. In the middle of them was a curly-haired boy that could only have been Peter. His chubby cheeks were flushed and his smile was so big you could stick your finger a knuckle-deep into his dimples. His eyes were wide and sparkly, his freckles splattered across his cheeks. He was missing a few teeth and had a small bruise on his chin. Tony smiles sadly and runs a thumb along the photo.

The next photo Peter was actually in was with Ned and the girl, MJ, he thinks. They're all crunched on the love seat with Peter draped over both of them completely and all are asleep. Peter is drooling on MJ's lap and her hands rest neatly on his chest. Ned is using the kid's legs thrown off the arm rest as a pillow. The TV illuminates their sleeping and peaceful faces, a large blanket was draped over both of them. The quality is grainy so he assumes May took it in the night.

He moves onto the next and his heart skips a beat. It's Peter and Tony. The kid is wrapped around his like a koala, ( _"clingy little shit,"_ Tony had said, making him giggle) and has the biggest smile on his face that Tony's ever seen. It was when they hadn't seen each other in two weeks, not taken that long ago. Tony walked through the door right as Peter had swung onto the balcony. He got so excited that he literally leaped into Tony;s arms and clung there. He screamed _'I missed you!'_ in Tony's ear and he just laughed. When he didn't let go Pepper had snapped a picture and sent it to the both of them. The picture next to it was the same hug but showing Tony's own face. He'd never seen himself that happy,  _ever._  

Tony pulled out his wallet and pulled out a photo he hadn't looked at in so long he almost forgot about it. He studied it again, loving it even more. 

It was Peter, holding a plate of pancakes and smiling wide, the camera even caught his sparkling eyes. He was wearing Tony's yellow sunglasses and his hair was mussed like he hadn't brushed it in weeks. His shirt said more snacks spelled out by elements on the periodic table, and Tony found it too ironic not to capture. This one was older, only a week after he'd started being a regular mentor. It was the first time Peter spent the night at the tower and woke up at the ass crack of dawn to make breakfast. The were disgusting and burnt, but Tony smiled and ate every bite across from the giggling kid. 

"Happy seventeenth, kiddo." 

 


	9. Chapter 9

Tony groans as his alarm goes off. Okay, maybe he was regretting saying he's wake up to make Peter breakfast. It's replaced by guilt as he hauls his ass out of bed. 

He's stumbling into the kitchen to see Peter already rearing to leave. He's slamming a book shut and shoving it quickly into his bag. 

"Hey, hey, it's a little early, Pete. You have-"

"No time, Mr. Stark! I'm running late." The kid is running for the door before he turns to smile and give a little wave. "Bye, see you later, love you!" 

And the door slams shut behind him. 

Tony's heart is palpitating, it's going to stop for good this time. 

 _"See you later, love you"_ are not the words he expected to come from Peter's mouth, ever. At least not directed at Tony. 

"What's the matter?" Pepper asks, kissing his cheek. Her heels click as she circles him in a study. "Did something happen?"

"He said he loves me." Tony said, his voice quiet with wonder. 

Pepper chuckled and rubbed his back. "Are you shocked?" 

"Uh, yeah a little." 

She stops in her tracks and looks him dead in the eye. "Do not mess  this up." 

Tony shakes his head and is scared of even the thought. "I'm trying, Pep."

"Good." 

And with that, she's gone. 

Tony takes out his phone to text messages from the kid. 

_I'm sorry I left so fast, and if what I said freaked you out :( It's Peter_

_Parker_

_Have a good day! :)_

Tony rolls his eyes and smiles. 

_Love you too, kid_


	10. Road to Recovery

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> if anyone read that story, i deleted because it got a little more dislikes than i thought. here was the chapter, sorry i didnt save the first one

Christ, this kid was scaring him shitless. He was emotionally unstable and acting like he’d never been loved in his life. Everytime he tugged subconsciously on his restraints Tony wanted to smack him over the head and scream. With love, always in love and nothing less. “They won’t come off.” Tony told him for the hundredth time.

Peter smirked. “Never hurts to try.”

Tony wants to wipe it right off his face. “So, when are you going to stop acting like you don’t give a shit about any of us?” 

The kid didn’t even flinch, the smirk was unwavering. “When you people start accepting that I don’t.” 

Tony shook his head and set the tray of food next to Peter on the bed. They stared at each other for awhile, it was awkward and uncomfortably silent. It was everything that strangers were, and Tony supposes that’s what they are now. His kid, this child that he saved the world for, drew blood for, doesn’t know him at all. Peter Parker, Spider-Man, the kid that make pancakes at seven in the morning and sang the Beach Boys in the shower. Tony’s intern, the boy that would practically skip into his lab every friday and had access to every floor of the compound. The teenager with Star Wars posts hanging above his desk and Lego minifigures of his teammates. 

Peter laid his head back against the pillows and opted for staring at the ceiling. 

“Did I ever tell you about Ultron?” 

No answer, as expected. Tony just continued with story after story until someone would drag him out every night to eat. THis went on every single day without fail, no matter how crummy Tony felt, he would go to see Peter every day. He would tell him about his day, sometimes bring work down and sit. 

Peter would stare at the wall in silence. His attention didn’t drift anywhere except occasionally ripping against his bindings. He would only eat when Tony wasn’t in the room, and sleep after he left. 

Some of the other visited Peter too. They would come down and sit right next to his bed, share their own stories. 

Peter stayed the same. 

He got thinner, paler and ragged. His hair got shaggy and he lost a noticeable amount of weight. The kid had a serious Vitamin D deficiency that nobody could fix. Sometimes Bruce would do tests. He would take Peter’s blood and run exam after exam and find nothing. He looked through every medical journal and magazine mention without prevail in sight. 

Peter let Steve draw him. 

One day at two am when Tony fell asleep with his head against the small desk in Peter’s room, he woke up to Steve, studying Peter’s face. His large hand was tracing the teenager’s sharp cheekbone and running it along the edges of his face. He was practically leaning into the touch, Tony could tell he forced himself to be still. Steve sat across from Peter on his bed for a little over an hour, sticking his tongue out in concentration. 

Tony watched silently, his hands vaguely holding his head in vain. Steve’s pencil scratching his small scratch pad was absolutely  _ mesmerizing.  _ His blue eyes shone with pride as he smiled at the finished piece. 

“Can I see?” Peter asked, unable to hide the childish glint in his voice. His lips were twitching and he was feigning off a smile of his own. 

“Of course.” Steve said sweetly. 

He turned the book around and it was angelic. 

To tell the truth Steve had done better but Peter’s reaction was everything. He gasped and reached out, running his slim fingers along the lines of lead. His eyes were wide and twinkled unlike Tony had seen in so long.

“Thank you.” He whispered, locking eyes with Steve. 

Another smile followed and hair ruffle. “No, thank  _ you _ . You’re one hell of a model.” 

Steve finally turned to Tony. “I think we should let him sleep, he’s probably a little tired-” 

Peter cleared his throat, immediately gaining the attention of both shocked men. “I’d actually um… like it if he stays, if that’s okay? Or if you’re busy that’s okay I’ll just sleep.” 

Tony shook his head. “I’m not busy anytime soon.” 

Steve smiled and turned to the door. “Have a good night, boys.” 

Right once the door shut, Peter collapsed back onto his bed. He looked absolutely exhausted as he eyes drooped shut and he fidgeted with pulling the blanket up to his chin. 

“I’m sorry, Tony.” He breathed, looking his right in the eye. 

“Hey, no no no.” Tony said, getting up and walking to the edge of Peter’s bed. “No apologies, no hard feelings! We’re fine.”

“I’m not, I’m not.” Peter said, pulling himself deeper into his bed. His eyes were clamped shut as if that would help the flow of tears that were about to happen. 

Tony sat down next to Peter’s hip and let his hand hover over the boy’s arm. He decided against touching until it was initiated but god, he needed to hold his child. It’s been so long, a month is too long. He tried to fight away the memories of carrying Peter to bed and hugging him after hard missions. When they got closer he would slip a finger through Tony’s belt loop as if he would escape. When Peter was sad it was destined that Tony would have a teenage-sized octopus strapped to his chest until there was a mood change.Tony didn’t mind, more than didn’t mind. He  _ wanted _ it. 

“Ah ah! Me first.” Tony said, effectively cutting off Peter’s rambling. “And listen up, okay? I’m allergic to this kind of shit and I won’t repeat myself.”

He paused to watch Peter recoil at his tone. Tough love was pretty common in this household and this was just another one of those moment.

“Short and sweet, you need to get it together. Don’t give me that look, I know you don’t want to and don’t want to be here anymore I get it. I need you to stop acting like nothing hurts you. You’re seventeen for fucks sake and you’re locked in a bedroom in my basement. I held you as you died, Pete, you crumpled to dust in my hands and left me with some blue robot in space. God, it sounds like the plot of a bad sitcom.”

Tony took a deep breath. “And there shouldn’t have been an end where it turns out like this. People up there miss you, kid. They love you-”

“And do you, Mr. Stark?” Peter asked, chewing on his bottom lip. His eyes were blown again wide as he stared intensely at the man before him. 

Tony snorted a laugh. What the fuck? It was almost offensive. Does he? Fuck, more than anything. He’d die for this kid, he- 

_ No. _ Peter wouldn’t want Tony dying for him, he wouldn’t take that sacrifice as anything but a waste. Tony’s would die for Peter but even better, he’s living for him too. 

“More than anything, Pete.” 

The smile dripped right off Tony’s face when he saw Peter’s lip quiver. He was staring down at his blankets, pulling at a loose string among the fabric. 

“I’m sorry.” He whispered, his eyes brimming with tears.

To say the least, Tony was overwhelmed. This is the most emotion the child had shown in so long he was numb to it. His fatherly instincts had been dazed and he forced them back onto their proper track. 

“I forgive you, but there’s nothing to apologize for.”

Crap crap  _ crap. _ Tony now knows why Pepper really didn’t want kids with him, he’s terrible with them. Here he is, making this mentally unstable child-Avenger can’t control. 

“It’s not your fault.” Peter said, reaching for Tony’s hand. The metal between his wrists awkwardly creaked and made the boy blush.

Their fingers brushed and Tony had to hold back his happy hum. His kid was warm and with him. He’s alive, and Tony can work with alive.

He shook his head and held Peter’s hand tighter in his own. 

“You look like Casper the friendly ghost.”

Peter puffed out of his nose. “I know.” He said sadly.  

 

 


	11. soap and water

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> and THIS was the first draft of soap and water that i never used, i didn't like it like this but feel free to read. it kinda sucks

  
  
To say the least, Tony was overwhelmed. He had a thousands things to do with little to no help. The food had to be out and served, the drinks had to be made and the guests had to be happy. 

So when he couldn’t find his ‘intern,’ Tony went a little more ballistic. Peter was nowhere to be seen and he couldn’t exactly call him in the room with a thousand voices echoing and laughing loudly. 

Tony was bustling around, unlike what he usually did at his home parties. He took pride in all of them and made sure they were enjoyable. The soundtrack was off the charts this time, Peter was talented in more ways than a few.

He almost forgot about the teenager’s absence when he was whisked away into conversation after conversation. The veterans were telling old war stories, Rhodey was laughing along next to him and stealing sips of his drink, 

“The bar is right there!” Tony whined as his glass left his fingertips and onto his friends lips.

“Your drinks are always so much better.” 

“I can make you the  _ same one. _ ” He retorted, mourning his very sweet drink. It was very well made, he’d have to give himself credit for that. Tony watched as Rhodey downed the rest of the liquid and set the vacant glass on the table next to him. “Watch the party for me?” 

Rhodey rolled his eyes and shook his head. “I don’t think they’re going anywhere, free booze.” 

Without a word Tony loosened his tie like it was suffocating him. His anxiety was bubbling until he was outside Peter’s door, it was oddly quiet for the child and it made the billionaire worry more. 

Lacking of a knock, he opened Peter’s door and poked his head inside. Rage and fury flooded his system at the sight in front of him. He didn’t take his eyes away from the teenager as he pulled the Iron Man hand gauntlet over himself.  

“Get the fuck off him.” Tony spat, aiming the beam right at the man’s head. 

Peter was sobbing and fisting the blankets cushioning his head. His back was forcefully arched and a belt was wrapped around his neck tight enough to leave stripes of red. Sweat dripped off his body and soaked into the mattress. 

“Just having a little fun.” The man muttered, buttoning his pants. 

Tony swears, he didn’t mean for the blaster to go off. He definitely didn’t mean for it to hit the man in the dead-center of his chest. 

He didn’t try to push away the pride he felt when the man was crumpling into the floor and crying in pain. 

Tony turned his attention to Peter, who was clawing at the skin around the belt on his neck. With a few taps the metal disassembled back into his watch and he was dropping to his knees before Peter. 

“G-Get it off me! Please get it...” Peter cried, breaking his skin with his finger nails. 

Tony undid the belt and threw it aside. He yanked the blankets off the bed and threw them in a heap. Those would be burned later, right under the dying man to Tony’s right. 

“F.R.I.D.A.Y., call the police after you evacuate all the guests. Tell Happy, Sam and Rhodey to get up here now.” 

Tony got up to get Peter clean clothes and a cup of water. His foot might have stomped down on the man’s kneecap, but nobody would account for that. His fury was washing over him in waves when he looked at Peter. 

Peter didn’t speak as he tripped over himself to put clothes on. Tony didn’t miss the wince as the clothes were rubbed against his backside. 

“You sick fuck.” Tony said, grabbing the man’s collar. His knuckles collided with cheek bone and it was the most satisfying thing he’d ever done. Over and over until he lost count. 

Peter’s choked sob brought him out of his haze. He dropped the rapist at his feet and walked calmly back to the kid.

His heart clenched at the fear in the boys eyes as Tony approached him. He held his hands up in surrender and sat on the edge of the bed. 

“Pete, I’m not going to hurt you, okay. Can I touch you?” 

The child nodded and viciously scrubbed his eyes. “I need a shower, please, sir.” He pleaded. “Please.” 

As if Tony’s heart wasn’t anymore broken. “Not yet, buddy-”

“Can I hug you, please?” Peter whispered, opening his arms in a plea. His eyes shone with tears. And his lips were quivering. 

“Of course.” Tony said immediately, wrapping his arms around his shaking child. “Always. It’s okay, kid. I’m going to fix this, I promise.”

“You c-can’t.” He sobbed. 

Tony held on tighter. “Of course I can, Pete.”


	12. Chapter 12

Everything is fine,  _ everything is fine.  _

“What's the matter with you today?” Tony had asked. Peter could tell his patience was wearing thin and he almost felt bad. 

_ Almost. _

“Nothing, Mr. Stark. Can we please keep working?” 

His mentor groaned and dramatically slapped his papers down on the workbench in front of him. “Kid, I'm on my knees here. Just tell me what's bothering you-” 

“Catch my fucking hands!” 

Peter really didn't mean to say it. He didn't want to be mean but he was under so much stress and… he felt like breaking down. He wanted to cry and sleep and eat. 

Tony's expression didn't change when he reached out and grabbed Peter's hands in his own. “Why didn't you just ask?” 

Peter felt his heart thrum. “Sorry for yelling at you, Mr. Stark.” 

The billionaire smiled and ran a gentle hand through Peter's hair. “It's alright. Let's take a break, want some pizza?” 

Peter faltered and his hands accidentally twitched. “I don't have any money. I should just go, sir.”

Tony scoffed and tightened his grip. “Look who you're talking to, I have enough oh that shit for both of us  _ and  _ more. I'll always pay for you, kiddo. Don't worry about money, it's okay.” 

Peter was clenching his jaw, trying to hold back his tears and embarrassment. It wasn't going too well. Why was he even crying? He's getting free food and spending time with Tony Stark.

“Thank you.” 

Tony smiled. “Oh, thank  _ you,  _ Mr. Parker.”


	13. Chapter 13

Peter woke up with a jolt. His tears and snot were dried uncomfortably on his cheek and he reached to wipe them off. He pushed away his thoughts and made his way for his mentor's room. 

He knows he's acting like a little kid, but he can;t do it this time. He can't sit in his bed and cry himself back to sleep alone. Not today. 

He pushes the door open, realizing his mistake. 

Tony lurched up as the metal began flying right towards Peter, it was glowing a cream color and he ducked a blaster. 

Thank god for his web shooters he never slept without. 

"Fuck off!" He yelled at the suit, webbing it securely to the ceiling. 

Peter whipped around to see Tony, open-mouth and wide eyed staring at him, his hands were shaking along with his body. 

The teenager walked over and stood over him awkwardly. "I'm sorry, sir. Are you okay?" Peter's voice cracks on the last few words. 

"Am I okay? Are  _you_ okay, kid?" 

Peter nods in confusion. "Why wouldn't I be?" 

Tony runs a thumb along his cheekbone, Peter leans into the touch because he's starved. Call him clingy but holy shit he needs it after the night he's having. His adrenaline is wearing thin and he's slumping with exhaustion. 

"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry. It's out of reflex, I wouldn't try to hurt you, you know? Tell me you know."

"I know, Mr. Stark. I'm sorry for bothering you." 

Tony didn't look convinced but his face morphed into one of gentle concern. He sat up against his headboard and patted the space next to him. "C'mere, kiddo. You didn't bother me. "

Before climbing in, Peter look right into his eyes. "I trust you, Mr. Stark. I'm not mad at you. I'm sorry for everything." 

Tony rolled his eyes and pulled Peter into the bed by his wrists. "I'm taking the word 'sorry' out of your vocabulary." 

Peter clamped his mouth shut and laid his head above his mentor's knees. He wasn't complaining when Tony carded his hands through his hair. He feels lucky, like he has a suit of armor around him when Mr. Stark there. He supposes, that's how it's supposed to feel.


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> this was a discarded chapter of something im currently working on!

Peter just wants one _ fucking _ day off. He wants to sleep in and wake up to Tony burning pancakes- god, that man  _ cannot _ cook for his life. He wants the wake up to the sun in his eyes and after more then ten hours of peaceful slumber. 

Instead, he bounces awake to the panic alarm blaring, F.R.I.D.A.Y. is spurting information at him and the lights in his guest room are flashing red. He groans and slips on his suit, angrily slamming the spider emblem. 

“Hello, Peter.” Karen says, laying out a map of the tower before him. “There seems to be intruders within fifteen feet. I suggest you stay here and wait it out.” 

He rolls his eyes and swing open his bedroom door. “What, and let these asshole get away with waking me up before seven?” 

“Yes.” 

Peter snorts and hops quietly on to the ceiling. “Where are they?” 

Karen hums. “The door to your left.” 

Fuck. It got worse. That’s Tony’s room. The same Tony Peter had pushed into bed the previous day, saying how he needed to sleep for a week. His guilt is the best motivating factor he has to enter that same room. He crawls in and sees a bored-looking mentor and three men with guns. What idiots only bring three people?

“Oh, Stark!” The shortest one yelped, he cocked his gun with a smile. “You gotta lotta bugs in this towa.’”

Tony’s eyes flicker with fear, terror that Peter shrugs off he he lands gently on the floor. “Really guys? Robbing on Sundays?” 

The blonde one snorts and aims his gun right at Peter’s head. “You got church or somethin’ baby boy? Man, I didn’t realize the Avengers were accepting applications from daycare centers.”

The all chuckle. Peter doesn’t think it’s funny, especially since they’re mocking a mutant teenage boy that did  _ not  _ get eight hours of sleep that he desperately needed. The deliria was making it real easy to not give a single fuck about what happens to these douchebags. 

Peter didn’t answer, he shot out his webs and snached the two guns right from the criminals’ hands. His spider sense tingles and the sight in front of him was moving in slow-motion. 

The tall guy threw a knife, it was about to lodge right into Tony’s back. The unarmored Tony, the one pulling on his hand gauntlet. The Tony that was oblivious to something that would most likely kill him.

Peter shrugs to himself and puts his hand out. He  _ put his hand out. _ He didn’t move the man, or even block him in a larger way. 

The hair on Peter’s arms stand to attention as he looks at the knife that went straight through Peter’s hand. It went  _ right through. _ The blade tip was protruding from his palm, the hilt coming from the top. Like any young man, he screams at the top of his lungs and kicks out his legs to get in another hit. 

“F.R.I.D.A.Y.,” Tony says, beaming the last man unconscious. “Call security and-and get medical up here. Now!” 

Peter lets his head thunk to the ground as he swallows the bile coming up his throat. He lets his eyes flutter shut and ignore the pounding of his head, the blood dripping onto the floor, his suit. Peter’s blood is everywhere. 

Tony drops down next to him. “Why would you do that.” 

“You would have died.” Peter says instantly.

Tony splutters in furry. “You never _ever_ again put yourself between me and anything. A knife, a gun, a person, _nothing._ Got it?” 

Peter chokes on words, so he nods and keeps his eyes clamped shut. He groans when Tony’s pulls his mask off and brushes the bangs out of his face.

“It should have been me, kiddo.” Tony whispers. 

Peter shakes his head violently. He wants to scream, shout at his mentor. All he does is sit and takes the lecture and self-hatred flow from the man’s mouth. He tunes t out, his mind is fuzzy and white spots dance under his closed eyelids. 

“Talk to me, Peter.” Tony says. Peter can’t tell if it’s angry or fear, his voice cracked on the last words like people do at funerals. Tony's hands are in his hair and he looks close to a breakdown. 

Peter rasps in a breath. “Protect… you…”


	15. Chapter 15

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> lol i decided to discard the entiire fcking work so heres anotha one!

The affronting stench of alcohol kills his sense of smell, he nearly gagged walking into the lab. Peter glances at all the empty glasses scattering Tony’s workbench that he worries. The deeper he goes into the room, the more his stomach protests. He walks further until he’s so nauseous he stumbles backward. 

Peter grabs his textbook and practically sprints out, slamming the door behind him.

Tony struggled with an alcohol problem, everyone has their issues and that’s his. Peter remembers the countless articles that were written about it, he read each one three times because,  _ no _ , Tony Stark couldn’t have a single bad bone in his body. He thought that when he was younger. 

Peter is all grown up. He knows that even heroes break down and have bad backstories and their hearts break just like everyone else's. Heroes are drug addicts and prostitutes and mercenaries. It’s all in how you see it, it’s perspective. 

Peter doesn’t understand why Tony receives so much backlash for  _ everything. _ The man could go grocery shopping and people would send him fucknig death threats. Tony is Peter’s hero, and he knows that’s not enough. 

It’s not enough to get the man out of bed some days, it’s not enough to coerce him into consuming or than coffee or to take a shower. Peter understands. He knows about Tony’s illness, it doesn’t make him less of a hero. Needing help doesn’t make you less of a man. You become less of a person when you criticize the need for humanistic needs. 

The teenager pushes the elevator doors that take him up to the penthouse level and soon he’s pushing in Tony’s door and praying he hasn’t died of alcohol poisoning. 

Peter thanks anyone and everything that the man is staring at the ceiling, unmoving besides the rising of his chest and a few blinks a minute. 

Without speaking, Peter fetches the man a glass of water, painkillers and his favorite granola bar. He sets it on the nightstand and fixes Tony’s blankets so they’re wrapping around him up to his chin. 

“Hey, Mr. Stark.” Peter says awkwardly, rubbing the back of his neck. “You don’t have to talk or anything, don’t worry ‘bout it. I left you some food and aspirin on the table when you’re feeling up to it. I’d really like if you at least drank some water, when you’re ready of course.” He takes a deep breath. “Feel better, sir. I’m going to head on patrol now, but I’ll be back to check on you.” 

With that, Peter leaves. The man doesn’t once leave his mind, even when he’s swinging across the Empire State Building and nearly slips, he’s think of his mentor. His idol, laying in a bed unable to do anything about it. He pushes away the pity and finishes up patrolling. It’s an unusually quiet night but he doesn’t dwell on it. He has a billionaire to take care of.

Just like earlier he pushes the door open, everything is the same. Nothing has moved, the man blinks up at the ceiling with a blank expression. Peter ignores the pang in his chest and he pulls up a chair next to Tony’s bedside. 

“Go home, kid.” Tony croaks, expression still dull. 

Peter shakes his head and purses his lips. “I’m good right here, Mr. Stark. Mind if I stay with you? I don’t want to be alone.” 

Tony sighs and rolls over so his back is to Peter. “Whatever.” 

Peter lets a soft smile flash across his face as he puts his legs on the bed, getting comfortable. He knows Tony doesn’t want to be alone, he knows because the man has told him. One night he’d broken down right in this room and told the boy he couldn’t bare being alone when he can’t move. He feels numb and abandoned, things Peter would make sure he wouldn’t feel.

“Sir,” Peter had whispered. “You may be lonely but you’re never alone if I’m here.” 

Tony mad chuckled and patted his back. “Don’t tempt it, kid.”

Peter didn’t know what Tony had meant. He did hours of research on his mentor’s symptoms and how to help. Peter couldn’t be a hero if he couldn’t save his own. If anyone deserved to be saved, it was Tony stark. 


	16. Chapter 16

Tony runs a finger across the photograph in his wallet. 

It’s Peter Parker, covering the smile Tony specifically told him  _ not to _ , a spilled cup of hot chocolate in a puddle next to him. His hair was puffy and curly, how it was before the kid messily gelled it down. He was wearing flannel red pants and a long sleeves shirt rolled up to his elbows. 

It’s been two years since he’s seen that covered up smile. 

Two years since he’d seen Peter Parker in-the-flesh.

Too long, too long since he’d seen his son. 

“Daddy! Daddy!” Morgan yelped, beating his legs with her small fists and giggling. 

Tony drops the picture and before he can grab it, she toddler picks it up and tears at it. He snatches it before looking and the ripped paper. He folds it and puts it in his pocket before lifting his daughter into his arms. 

“Yes, baby?” He says softly, ignoring the anger bubbling in his chest. He can’t stay mad at her for too long if he pushes Peter away from his mind for a bit. Or tries to, at least. 

“Who’s ‘at?” She asks, her blue eyes sparkling.

Tony clears his throat and rubs her back. “How about we go see mommy?” 

"Who's 'at dadda?" Morgan says again, pushing herself away from the embrace. 

"That was Peter, honey." He sets her down gently. "Go see mommy, okay." 

She scurries away as tears leave his eyes. 


	17. 5 plus 1 flop

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> honestly, i didn't know what the fuck to do with this one. i didn't know how to finish it, so i didn't. sorry i stopped in the middle of a chapter but use your imagination (or if you bully me enough ill come finish it i guess)

Five times peter parker struggles in silence

 

… and one time he doesn’t have to. 

 

5-alcohol  
  


plus 1- 

 

 

_ 1: sexuality _

  
  


Peter stared into the mirror, tears making everything blurry. He’s trying to catch his breath but it won’t come to him as he slides to the ground, he wonders how this  _ happened _ . 

Backtracking, his first ever and remaining problem was being an orphan. He might have had his aunt and uncle to care for him, but they weren’t his parents. He remembers one time he tried calling May ‘mom’ and she froze. Her hand lost its grip on Peter’s small one until she came to her senses and crouched down so they were the same eye level.

_ “Baby,” _ She said sweetly, eyes flicking anywhere besides Peter’s.  _ “I’m your aunt, you need to understand that. I’m not your mom, okay?” _

To this day the memory was bitter. Why couldn’t she have just lied? He wishes May was him mom until he remembers that she never wanted kids- there was a reason she didn’t have them already. She got wine drunk one day and told him that, leaving Peter to carry her to bed and sit in his room in silence. 

Then, he became Spider-Man. Not the hero yet, but the physical process was brutal on his body. He missed two weeks of school and couldn’t leave his bed for nine days after the spider bit him. He begged Ben and May not to take him to a hospital so he sat alone again, sweating into the mattress and shivering simultaneously. Every comforting touch burned his skin and chilled his blood. It was the sickest he’d ever been and after that he accidentally crushed the bathroom doorknob. That was hard to explain to his guardians. 

Worst of all, his uncle died in his arms. Peter hadn’t ever seen that much blood, he didn’t know the human body  _ held _ that much blood in general. His hands shake at the memory and he finds himself white-knuckling his own skin. Peter had held his aunt as she sobbed, she couldn’t get of of bed for four days straight and only went to work for a paycheck. They had to move out of their apartment in favor of a smaller one, less expensive one. 

Now it was his label. His sexual- _ fucking _ orientation was his current dilemma. Peter couldn’t tell you what started this, maybe looking through his porn search history set him off or the thought of Ned’s lips on his making his knees like jelly. The thing was, he didn’t know and that was  _ terrifying _ . Spider-Man could be gay, bisexual, pansexual for all he knows. How would people react to that? Peter didn’t have anybody to look up to with this, he was alone. He’s a gay, lonely orphan super-boy. Peter thinks it has a nice ring to it before he chokes on another sob. 

Peter just wants answers, he wants to _ know _ how he should know. He wants someone to look up to that isn’t some gigolo he googled on incognito mode when his aunt left for her night shift. 

Peter needs a hero, for once he can’t be one for himself. He cries harder and rips at his sweatpants so hard there’s a fist-sized hole in the leg. Heroes don’t cry.

  
  


_ 2: stress _

 

Peter tugs on his hair with another loud groan but quickly stops when he hear Aunt May snoring down the hall. He shuts his books as quietly as he can and dials Ned’s number. 

_ “Hey, Spider-Man.”  _ Ned says through the crinkle of the phone line, his voice deep and sultry sounding.

Peter sighs and tries to ignore the fluttering sensation in his stomach. “Say it a little louder, would ya?” 

Ned scrambles across the line.  _ “Sorry sorry! It’s just so so cool that my best friend is a superhero.” _

Peter smiles. Even thought Ned can’t see him, he still flushed with embarrassment. “It’s fine, man. Did you finish the english homework?” 

His friends lets out a low growling noise that has Peter shifting uncomfortably in his seat.  _ “Yeah, you need it?”   _

He considers this but his guilt-complex puts the brake on. “Nah, I’ll do it. Just tired.” 

_ “Go to sleep, Peter.” _ Ned says instantly. 

The line disconnects and Peter goes to his room, trying not the slam the door despite his frustration. 

School is pounding him to the ground right now, he has a hundred things due every day and he can’t keep track. He doesn’t know what is what and- 

Peter wheezes and holds his chest, doubling over. He clenches his eyes shut and waits it out. His tears are lost in his muffled cries and paper are spewed every other way. He wraps his arms around himself as best he can in search for the comfort. All in all, Peter thinks, heroes don’t get stressed.

  
  


_ 3: mental illness _

  
  


Peter can’t lift himself up. 

That’s a lie. He physically can, he can hold up almost ten tons and stop moving trucks from crushing him on impact. He swings around Queens and shoots wed after web without ripping his shoulder out of socket, so he could lift himself off the bed. 

The problem is, he cannot. 

His body feels like twenty tons, and honestly moving isn’t worth it because he has nowhere to go. Sure, he’s got school and his alter-ego of saving New York City occasionally but other than that, his bed is his destination for the day. 

Peter can’t even bring himself to feel bad when he ignore the multiple times his phone has rung and May walks out the door yelling at him for being ‘lazy.’ 

He’s not mad, he doesn’t feel anything. The insult bounces off him like she said nothing and he stares. 

Peter stares at the ceiling for hours without moving a muscle until he gets a headache. Until he thinks about letting May leave without saying goodbye and a quick  _ ‘I love you’ _ departure. Until he thinks about how he left the milk out and stunk up there whole apartment and had to go buy more with May’s credit card gripped tightly in his hand. Until he thought about how much homework is due tomorrow, and how much more work he’ll have since it was currently ten in the morning and classes began three hours ago. Until he thinks about the person that died last week or the criminal he might have kicked a little too hard. Until he thinks about all the somber looks Tony throw at him when he thinks he isn’t looking and how many meetings his mentor has to skip because he’s crying on the top of soe skyscraper.

The feelings don’t hit him right away but he goes from nothing to everything in a half hour and finds himself crying on the shower floor with freezing water beating on his chest. He lets his teeth chatter and hair crust at the cold until May bangs on the door and asks if he’s okay. 

He’s not. 

Peter’s not okay, but he has to be. 

Peter has to be okay because heroes don’t have depression.

 

It’s a new day, and a new day comes another breakdown. 

Peter feels it before he can process it and he slaps his hands against the tiles of the kitchen in the lounge. Tony Stark’s lounge and of course, now his brain wandered to when the building collapsed on and almost crushed him as he cried for the man standing over him. He wheezes, a terrible sound and he lets himself relish at the feeling of the hand on his back before he scrambles away. His ears feel full and his heart is pounding through his chest and god- his lungs are filled with ash and he makes himself hack onto the floor until he throws up.

Tony is calling his name and Peter can’t call back because there’s ruble in his body and he  _ has _ to get it out so he forces coughs until his throat is dry and his cheeks are damp. 

Peter’s hands shake as he runs a hand through his sweaty hair and licks his lips slowly. He blinks and begins to feel embarrassed. He’s not under a building or drowning or in a crashing plane, he’s in his idol’s kitching gagging and crying for help when he’s perfectly safe. 

“I’m… so sorry.” Peter gasps, his eyes refuse to leave the floor. “I…” 

Tony stands from his crouching position and brushes off his suit pants. “Don’t sweat it, kid, take a breath. I’ll have Happy bring you home, must be pretty tired after that little episode.” 

Peter looks up at him with blurred vision and pushes quickly to his feet. “No, no! Mr. Stark ‘m fine-” 

“Ah! Zip it.” Tony snaps, holding his left arm tightly, it’s shaking and his eyes are closed. There’s a shake to his voice that Peter looks over for his mentor’s sake. “I’ll fix your suit and give it back later today.”

With that, the man is gone, legs trembling as he strides down the stairs. 

Peter sits back down against the island and lets his eyes close. 

How pathetic. How  _ weak. _

Tony probably thinks he’s both of those and more because all in all, heroes don’t have anxiety attacks.

  
  


_ 4: heart break _

 

Peter knocks on his aunt’s bedroom door, hearing her sigh before letting him in. She was wearing blue scrubs and her hair was tied back his a white scrunchie. Her glasses hung lightly off her nose as she opened it.

“May…” Peter whines, not even hiding the tremble in his voice and through his body.

She looks him over, gripping him tightly by the shoulders. “Baby, what happened? Are you hurt, did something happen on patrol? At school?”

Peter sobs. They shake through his body and he can’t help but hug her to him. He lets his head fall onto her shoulder and tears soak into her work clothes. 

May detaches them gently and guides him into her own bed, tucking him in. “I’m sorry, Peter. I have to go to work. I’ll be home soon, okay? Don’t leave, baby.”

Peter manages a nod and hums when her lips brush his cheek.


	18. Chapter 18

“Are you sure about this, Mr. Stark?” Peter asked, gripping the steering wheel to hide his trembling fingers. “This car is more expensive than me and I- I really don’t wake to break it.” 

Tony rolled his eyes and waved his off with a sharp hand. “You’ll be fine. Stop sweating, Parker, just put the car in drive and get us to Wegmans.”

The drive was relatively short, Peter was a nervous wreck and was physically ahking. Tony babbled on beside him, talking about his day or a new project. It was calming and the man knknew it.

Peter couldn’t believe his eyes when he put the car in park and gapped at his mentor. “I actually did it, Mr. Stark.”

“I know, Pete.” Tony said, the amusement was clear on his face as he brushed Peter’s bans to the side of his forehead.  


	19. Chapter 19

Okay, so Tony was swamped. 

Pepper was throwing daggers of paperwork at him and on top of it all, they had a fucking  _ newborn _ . Another child that Tony was responsible, the other was far too busy to be there, or that’s what he’d told his mentor. If the man had a little more sleep (or coffee) he would have heard the marred and cracking voice on the other line, the denial. 

Tony thinks he’s losing it. His son cries every hour and he’s running on two hours of sleep and Pepper won’t pick up the phone, neither will Peter. 

He can’t help but worry. Pepper returns his calls, Peter does not. Peter hasn’t called in days, too many for comfort. Hell, going a day without the kid texting him is a stretch Tony hates taking. 

It hits him when he’s taking a nap and the feeling of Peter’s ash is on his fingers, sifting through them like the child was  _ nothing _ and he wakes up with his chest heaving. Morgan screaming in the distance is drowned out by his initial panic and he scrambles to look for the brown haired boy. 

“Peter!” Tony calls out, his voice raspy and deep. His hands search for purpose as he sprints to the boys room, only to find it empty. It’s  _ empty.  _

His fingers punch the number he memorized when he took Peter to Berlin all those years ago and he’s met with immediate voicemail. 

“F.R.I.D.A.Y.,” He practically yells. “Wake Rhodey up, tell him to watch Morgan, tell him I need to… meet someone.” 

Tony has never moved so fast in his life. When Rhodey in in the baby’s room he soars into the sky of Queens. He can’t admire those shining stars until he feels Peter’s warm skin and pulse. He just needs to see the kid alive. 

Tony doesn’t know what he expected when he opens the window to Peter’s room and finds him, chest wheezing like Tony’s was earlier and tears streaming on his floor. There’s a puddle under his cheek and the teenager kicks the frame of his bed, making it shake. He steps out of the suit and crouches next to him, placing a hand to cup his face. 

“Pete,” Tony whispers, his heart clenching at hot the child flinched away from his hand. “Wake up. You gotta get up, kid.”

The teenager’s eyes fly open and he immediately crawls away from Tony until he’s backing into the bedframe. The older man tries not to panic when his chest doesn’t raise for a few seconds. 

“Is there a mission?” Peter wheezes, a hand clenching his chest. 

Tony inches forward without touching him. “Breathe, in and out. Perfect.”

Once Peter gets the memo he wipes his eyes and closes in on himself. Tony hates that he’s trying to comfort himself, especially when he’s right there. Especially when he’s definitely capable of giving it to him, he wants nothing more right now. His fingers are twitching to place them at the pulse point on Peter’s neck, but they still won’t move. 

“Is there a mission or not?” Peter asks, harsher than Tony would have liked. “Why are you here, Mr. Stark?” 

Tony shakes his head sheepishly. “There’s no mission, kid.” 

Peter’s eyebrows scrunch in confusion. “Then why’re you here?”

“You always get nightmares like that?” Tony asks, trying to make him forget about his own question. Thankfully, Peter does for now. 

His answer doesn’t miss a beat. “Every night.” 

Tony can’t help but wince. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

Peter avoids his mentor’s gaze. “I didn’t want to bother you with this. I’m seventeen, I don’t need… I don’t… I don’t know.”

“You don’t bother me, kiddo. I always have time for you.”

Peter shakes his head, Tony doesn’t miss the way tears brim his eyes slowly. “Mr. Stark, you have a real kid now. You have a son, you’re a  _ dad.  _ You don’t have to worry about me.”

Anger, so much  _ anger  _ that Tony doesn’t know how to express, so he stands up and brushes off his clothes with as much dignity as possible. “I worry about you when you don't call for almost two weeks and don’t even go in the suit or stop by the tower. I worry when you and May don’t answer my calls. Of course I worry about you.” 

Peter grits his jaw and gets in Tony’s face. “You shouldn’t! I- I died, Tony. I was dead and you have a son and got married and I turned to dust-”

“I’m gonna stop you right there.” Tony waves his hand at the boy. “You are my kid. I’m no Ben or May, I’m not trying to replace anybody but you and I have too much history for you to go out in your old suit- I know, by the way- and ignore me.”

Peter blushes and fidgets with his hands. “Sir, I know how busy you are. I know you don’t need me anymore, I see it. I know the signs, it was just a matter of time. I can give you the suit-”

Tony pushes a finger into the teenager’s chest. “Do not finish that sentence. Don’t do this to me Pete. I can’t lose you again, I can’t. Please, just… please.” 

Tony doesn’t know what he’s asking for and he can’t help but wipe away the tears that falls down Peter’s cheek. His finger travels the the slope of his neck and there it is- his pulse. It’s going faster than normal but it’s  _ going _ and it’s all that matter right now. He nudged the kid’s arms until they’re around his torso. Tony’s hands stray to the kid’s hair and he sways them soothingly while Peter cries. 

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry.” He wails into Tony’s chest. 

“It’s okay, baby. It’s okay.” Tony whispers. 

Peter is breaking down, his meltdown built up and harbored for longer than Tony would have liked. He’s bawling, his body shakes with them. “I th-thought you were too busy for me s-since you have a k-kid now. I tried to stay away and leave you alone. I’m so sorry.” 

Tony wants to cry, the lump in his throat makes his voice deep. “I’ll always have time for you, you’re my kid too. Don’t cry, it’s okay now.”

They stay like this until Peter is drooling on Tony's shoulder, throughly exhusted and clutching his shirt so tight it should have ripped. So Tony stays and holds the teenager in his lap and cars his hair gently, studying and memorizing his face. He has more nightmares, there's screaming and moore crying and Tony's heart hurts but at least he's there now.


	20. Roles Reversed- Tony Stark and Peter Quill (IFW)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> what would have happened if tony and quill traded places. i know it sucks, im not sorry this is just a general idea

Tony couldn’t help but release the gauntlet. The one with the stones, the one Strange specifically told him _ not _ to let go of. The big purple piece of shit that stole Peter Parker right from under his nose. God, he would never be able to forget that. 

 

_ “Mr. Stark!” Peter sobbed. His legs gave out and Thanos was holding him gently despite his size and homicidal tendencies. It made Tony sick. “Mr. Stark.” _

_ Tony’s hand shot up, beam ready at that fucking chin. “Let him go, Barney the Dinosaur.” _

_ Thanos chuckled. “Ah, the father.” _

_ There’s a weighted silence before the man can get his lungs to work again. “I told you to go right.” Tony said, forcing a deep voice over the lump in his throat. Nothing could ever get him to do this, he can’t, he won’t. “Let him go before I blow that nutsack of a chin off your ugly face.” _

_ “Tony,” Peter wheezes under the hold. “Not him, Mr. Stark.” He lets out a harsh sob. “You promised, you promised me on your mom.” _

_ The monster above the teenager blinks and smirks. “Oh, boy, you expect too much of him.” Thanos rolled his eyes. “He’s asked, didn’t he? Do it.” _

_ Peter gulped. “It’s okay, Mr. Stark. I forgive you, I promise you I forgive you.” _ _   
_ _ Tony shook his head, his shaky repulser lowering slowly and was now aimed just at the kid’s forehead until Thanos shoved him forward under his hand. Peter’s head was an inch away from being electrocuted, his tears threatening to make that sooner as he held himself back from hunching over. “Do it!” Thanos yells, pushing the boy closer into Tony’s palm. _

_ Tony wanted nothing more than to reach out and run his calloused hands through the boys sweaty hair. He almost throws up when Peter flinches away from the same hand that’s comforted him, the one that holds him. “I told May you’d come home.”  _

_ Peter smiles sadly. “It’s okay, Mr. Stark.” He closes his eyes.  _

_ Tony sobs as the repulser goes of. He screams and cries when the lights leaves his hand and… turns into bubbles? Tony can’t process, his tears are in the way and now Peter is screaming too.  _

_ “No!” His eyes widen as Thanos drags him away. “I don’t want to go! Mr. Stark, help! Ple-” _

Tony stares Thanos right in his milky eyes, rage is taking over his body. “Tell me you didn’t do it.” His voice shakes in the wrong ways and he can’t help but think about all the times Peter’s voice cracked. He’s give anything to hear it again. 

“I had to.” Thanos breathes.

Tony’s eyes widen. “No you didn’t.” He ignores the guardians yelling his name. “No you didn’t.” He punches with all his might, he wills the nanotech to strengthen around his fist and hit until he can’t anymore. 

They’re screaming at him, at Thanos, as Tony mourns for Peter Parker because he just lost everything. 

“What the hell is your problem?” Quill yells at him, pushing him back and making the man stumble. 

Tony keeps his eyes locked on the ground but he feels their eyes. “My son is dead.” 

They grow silent, there’s nothing left to say.


	21. Chapter 21

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> another scrapped chapter of something im working on

“Pete, why is there blood everywhere?” Tony asks frantically, holding up the bloodied comforter from Peter’s bed. The teenager winces and hides his wrists subconsciously, the movement doesn’t escape his mentor’s notice but the man is too angry to think anything if it. “You know, tough guy, I thought we were passed the keeping secrets bullshit. If you’re gonna act like a fifteen year old, you’ll be treated like one.” Tony rubbed the bridge of his nose and took a calming breathe. “Tell me what happened before the blood vessel on my forehead pops.”

Peter can’t help but feel and little scared and he grits his jaw to keep his lps from trembling. “Just a scratch from a while ago.” He spits out. 

Tony eyes him and moves forward until their chests are barely three inches apart. “I won’t ask again, Parker.” 

“I think I need help, Tony.” His hands shake as he pushes his sleeves up in between the two. 

Peter doesn’t miss the air his mentor chokes on, how his eyes are glassy and how his heart is beating faster than he’s ever heard it. Tony looks wrecked, he looks  _ broken.  _ Peter’s heart hurts inside and out that he did this, he did that to a man that has only ever tried to help him. He lets his eyes flutter shut in short of the rejection that is soon to come. 

Peter flinches away when Tony holds his wrist. It’s firm but gentle as his thumb caresses the horizontal slashes. They’re angry red and sudden;y Peter hates them. He hates those painful cuts and he might throw up if he ever saw a pencil blade again. 

“We’re gonna get through this, okay kid?” Tony says, forcing a determined look. A tear strolls down the man’s cheek and that’s all it take for Peter’s personal floodgates to open. 

He’s spluttering into his mentor’s chest, the hand in his hair doing little to soothe him. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry.” He chants, panting to catch a breathe. 

Tony’s nose jams into his scalp and his breathing tickles Peter’s scalp. “I know you are, kid, but you have to promise me something. You can’t leave unless you can promise me.” 

Peter looks up and they’re almost nose to nose, the comfort is foreign but it’s growing on him. He nods, waiting to hear what he’ll have to do. 

Tony sighs again, his grip tightening around Peter’s small frame. “You have to talk to me, or somebody for that matter. You can’t leave m- You can’t leave and do this anymore.” His voice shakes. 

“I promise.” 

Tony exhales and cups Peter’s cheek in his hand. “I feel a little like a bad dad right now, not gonna lie.”   
The teenager can’t help but blush. “S’not your fault anyway.”

“Oh kiddo,” Tony crushes him again his chest yet again. 


	22. Chapter 22

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> so this was the work i mentioned in the last chapter, its not good enough for me to really finish but im sure someone would want to read it. i promise theres actual good stuff coming soon, might do a real fic like this later

Three Times Peter Parker Breaks

 

… one time Tony is there to pick up the pieces.

 

_ 1. _

  
  


Peter doesn’t like to call it self-harming, even cutting is too blunt. He prefers the term grounding because that’s what it is. He grounds himself with razor blades from the convenience store two blocks away. He doesn’t slice viciously, he takes his time and doesn’t make a mess.

Peter sits on the ground of his bathroom floor and presses the blade to the palest parts of his wrists and  _ digs.  _ He barely feels the sting anymore as the white tiles are painted with his blood. He doesn’t stop until it puddles beneath him and he can finally breathe without the weight of the world crushing his lungs. He feels like he’s floating, like there’s nothing and that he’s dust. 

Peter was dust, he used to be. He sat inside that soul world for a year and a half until he got out. Until he rematerialized and coughed up his own ashes and threw up bile on his mentor’s shoes. He smashes his hands on the ground underneath him and didn’t stop until he was  restrained, blood trailing down his arms. 

Peter circles his finger around the puddle and begins to clean up, he can hear May coming down to take a shower. He pulls down his sleeves, shoves the washcloth in his front pocket and kisses his aunt’s cheek as the mingle in the bathroom doorway. She doesn’t see his wince when his arms brush against her pristine shoulders and he pushes himself away. 

Peter doesn’t bother to wrap the bubbling and blood aches across his wrists. They’ll be gone tomorrow, so will he. He’ll turn to dust and then he’ll slash at his skin like he’s painting on a white canvas. The blood used to make him dizzy but it’s soothing now since there’s no ash. When he coughs nothing comes out, no dust, no ash, no hard feelings. 

So he lets his wrists bleed under the covers and prays he wakes up in one piece. 

  
  


_ 2. _

  
  


Peter paces the room, consciously stopping his tangled hands from ripping out his hair. God, he needs something. Something to take it away. 

The wind is taking him away, it’s sending his ashes across that orange planet and he cries and waits for a way out. He cries when he hears other people screaming but there’s nobody in sight. He cries when he sees his life flash before his eyes. He cries when he sees his hands and feet crumpling to dust for the second time. He cries when he rematerialized alone and in spite of himself, throws up dust. His dust, the dust from the planet. Peter can still feel it beneath his fingers and right now the carpet of his floor and that gravel feel the exact same.  

Peter clenches his fist and put a hole right through the wall. He starts to panic when his hand pulls out and all he can see is dust and blood. 

It stains the carpet next to the bile that forces its way up his throat. 

But hey, bleeding is better than blowing away. 

  
  


_ 3. _

 

May finds him on the roof. He’s got blankets wrapped around him and he has to hide his pen and index card at her arrival. She smiles at him and for a few seconds, Peter thinks it’s worth it. There’s no doubt in his mind that May would be devastated, that she would fall into the wallowing hole of self-pity and this time there’d be no one to yank her back out.

Her gentle hands on his shoulders remind him of Ned’s just an hour before. His laugh, the sparkle in his dark eyes and god, that boys’ laugh was music to Peter’s ears. He let himself be held and hold, his lips still tingle at the taste and he knows he’s done for. Peter can’t help when his lips tug into a smile and he rolls his head onto May’s shoulder. 

“Baby,” She whispers softly. “Why were you up here?”

Peter gulps. “I was uh- I was just with Ned.” 

So he wasn’t  _ lying _ . He was just with the other boy, but the other boy had found him up here as well and Peter had scurried to hide his utensils then, too. 

Fear had been following Peter like an old friend. Earlier when his tiptoes were the only thing in the way of the pavement and the apartment complex, he couldn’t will himself to let go. He feels like a ticking time bomb, the more he puts this off the bigger the explosion will be. 

He wants it to end. 

He wants everything to be over, he wants to go this time. 

After all, Death is an old friend and one that Peter could only hide from for so long.

“Let’s go inside, you feel a little warm.” Peter stands, forgetting about the black-inked pen that fell from his pocket. May thinks nothing of it as the hands it back to him obviously. “You okay, Peter” Everything alright up there.” 

Peter scrunches his nose in retaliation to her knocking on his temple lightly. “It’s perfect, May.” 

She rolls her eyes and chuckles. “You’re perfect, Petey.” 

Peter ignores the warmth filling his chest and groans. “What did we say about the nicknames!”

“Well, _ I _ said they’re great-”

_ “Aunt May!” _


	23. Chapter 23

okay, I know these are annoying as fuck but I'm putting on the last chapter of my (5k+) work and I need some votes!! and remember, if you don't vote I chose how you suffer! 

 

should the last chapter be fluffy or realistic angst (hurt/comfort) shit 

 

Please and thank you, fic should be up soon!


	24. child of war

Peter screamed. He screamed until his throat was raw, until he couldn’t stop. 

 

That was three years ago, when he watched his Uncle Ben get shot. When he bled out in Peter’s lap and coughed up blood that made the boy’s stomach churn with something he hadn’t even lost yet. He knew what was coming, he knew. 

 

It was happening again right now, it was like deadly foreshadowing, a disgusting future he had to live with. The man he thought of as a father, as another parent was dying in his lap and wiping  _ Peter’s  _ tears while he was dying. How selfish could he be? 

 

Then again, children of war always get the short end of the stick. 

 

When he was six and his parents died in a ‘plane crash’ or what we later found out was a missio. A mission to save him, to protect him. He remembers his parents and he feels bad to for lying to people when they ask and he denies it. He denies it because he wants that memory to himself, he wants to keep his family to himself. Peter clutches his chest but tears never fall because maybe after all, he doesn’t remember them. 

 

When he was fourteen going on fifteen, he watched as his uncle got shot where his lungs rise and fall and Peter felt his world crumple. He remembers his knees dropping into a puddle of blood and the tears blurry his vision, but the memory was clear as day. Ben had smiled painfully and wiped his tears with a shaky thumb. Peter remembers his words but if he shares them, they aren’t really  _ his, _ right? He refuses to let anymore tears fall until he’s in the shower and the water is hitting his skin so hot he comes out red and pained. 

 

Now he’s seventeen, jaw dropped open and his mind unable to process what’s going on in front of him 

 

Peter had blood on his hands. Literally and metaphorically because his mentor is bleeding out in front of him and Tony’s comforting Peter like he’s not the one wheezing for air. Like he’s not the one that’s chest if almost done beating of the one that’s about to die. Tony’s dying and his blood is on Peter’s hands. Peter has killed family member after family member like it’s normal. 

 

It’s not. 

 

Peter is a child of a war, born at the wrong time and unsure of what he’s supposed to fight for. He used to think it was to keep people safe, to advocate for the people that couldn’t speak for himself. He is fighting for a cause he doesn’t understand and therefore doesn’t believe in. He’s sure of one thing, though, without it he’d be nothing more than a villan. 

 

Peter fights for his aunt. He fights so she can keep being a nurse. So she can keep cooking terribly and so he can keep kissing her cheek before he leaves for school. He fights for Tony, his childhood and present hero-turned mentor and  _ so much more _ . 

 

Maybe he does have something worth fighting for, but it seems small now. It’s wilting along with his mentor’s heartbeat beneath his fingers, more blood on his hands. Too much blood, not enough air to go around. 

 

Peter is no more of a hero than he is a product of a war brewed by men thrice his age. Young men and women alike are left to die for things they don’t understand and causes they don’t believe in. Peter doesn’t believe in God, not really, he tried. He figures if there is a god somewhere, that any and all of them have a special hatred for the teenage boy. He tries not to push his luck and tempt them with his fate but they aren’t there because if there was a God, he wouldn’t be this merciless. Nobody would bestow this life on a child, one of innocence and purity. Peter just thinks it’s because the people around him die and he deserves the pain. His life is mourning the deaths he’s awaiting, such as his own. 

 

And then he woke up. 

 

Peter wakes up screaming, gasping for help. 

 

Nobody comes. 

 

Nobody is there, they’re all dead and gone because of him. 

 

The blood on his hands is real. 

 

Peter lets out a sob for Tony, Ben, May. 

 

None of them come because he’s alone. 

 

_ “It’s okay, baby.” Tony said, smiling. His eyes shone with tears and he sounded on the verge of a breakdown, on the verge of death. He was, Peter realizes. “Do good for me, promise.”  _

 

_ Peter lets out a scream but no tears fall. He’s shed enough to last a lifetime and beyond. “Promise.”  _

 

_ Tony breaks their eyes contact and looks at the sky. The hand in Peter’s scalp gently stops and cups his cheek shakily. “It’ll be okay, kid.” _

 

Everybody is gone.


	25. sick dayz

Tony expected death. How could he not with how his life is seemingly turning out? He thought he was ready, thought he could handle this hurt. Deep down he knows this would have been his breaking point. His own personal snap, but that already happened. 

 

That happened nine months ago. Nine months ago Tony had held a too-young teenager die way too young. His blood- no, his  _ ash  _ was on Tony’s hands in every sense of the term. He would never forget that moment. The ride back to earth was the worst four hours of his life. All he could think about was Peter. He thought about all the time he could have spent with the teenage vigilante besides working on the suit twice a week. Peter had definitely gotten attached, being the pushy teenage boy the older man came to love. The boy fretted over his well being and interrogated him after anything mildly stressful, anything he would deem an ‘anxiety fest.’ Tony always denied himself the pleasure of getting close to the kid, getting attached. Getting attached meant hurting like he already was. He failed, miserably in fact. What monster couldn’t love Peter Parker? There was always a downside, always a catch to his undeniable parental love. Loving meant losing and when was the universe ever on his side? It wasn’t on Peter’s, he was in the half of the universe that turned to dust. The half selected for a genocide all because of an over glorified ring pop and a couple of glowing marbles.

 

It’s been one month since the snap reversed and he’s seen Peter once.  _ One time _ . They’d had one hell of a reunion and that was it, Peter went home to Aunt Hottie and ostensibly ignored Tony’s calls, texts and pop-up visits. Spider-Man hadn’t made any appearances. Karen and F.R.I.D.A.Y. weren’t as helpful as Tony was patient for. He silently wished he’d had a piece of Jarvis left but he pushed that away, too.

 

And yeah, Tony was more than a little hurt. Maybe going crazy was a better term but he never liked labels anyway.

 

So hurt that he finally pushed into that tiny apartment before May could push him away again. He didn’t even knock on Peter’s door before opening it and he couldn’t help but let his jaw drop.

 

There he was, trembling, moaning in pain and  _ alive.  _ Tony had never seen him in a worst state, the kid had looked better when he was dying and that revelation made him jerk into action. He held his hand out as if approaching a rabid animal and approached slowly, close enough to sit next to the shaky teenager. The billionaire could feel the heat radiating off him but he wasn't sweating at all, quite the opposite since his skin was peeling, red and dry. Flakes of skin littered the floor and bed and Tony had to hold back his gag. He scanned the room for more thing out of place and scrunched his eyebrow in confusion. There were tiny spider webs everywhere in the dark room, the window was open and creating a cool breeze that should have given them both hypothermia by now. 

 

The shaking, the dry skin, Tony pieced together, was Peter’s body fighting an evolution of his spider-instincts. He was in pain and that’s all his mentor needs to know before he drops to the floor in front of the kid, making sure Peter can see him. 

 

“Hey, kiddo. Hi, it’s me.” Tony says soothingly. “I’m going to take care of you, okay? I’m going to fix it.” 

 

Peter shuddered and took in gasps of breath. “H-Hurts.” He said between them.  

 

Tony took the time to convince his aunt to take Peter to the compound where he could be treated. Or at least to take the pain away until the transformation ended, and she hastily agreed. That’s all the billionaire needed before he strapped the retired Iron Man suit over himself and flew Peter to the MedBay. 

 

“W-When I asked… t-to go flying I didn’t mean in th-this con-condition.” Peter chattered as he was set into a pristine bed. 

 

Tony tsked and pulled up a chair, taking in Peter’s face as he did. Sure, the kid was pale yet red, eye bags bigger than the country and his lips peeled but he was still there.  _ Alive. _ Tony can work with alive for now, the baby-steps would take some time. “Why didn’t you tell me?” Tony asked, his voice laced with more pain than he intended. He only realized this when Peter winced and looks to his fidgeting fingers.

 

“I thought I was d-dying again. You shouldn’t have h-had t-to go through it once, much less t-twice-”

 

“You’re not dying.” Tony snaps, standing from his chair as purposefully avoiding the hurt look on the teenager’s face. 

 

Peter clears his throat before continuing. “Then I figured out that the symptoms matched up to when I became… part spider. Spi-Spider-Man. I was scared. I’m s-sorry.” 

 

Tony choked on air. 

 

_ “I’m sorry…”  _

 

He was white knuckling the bed rail, Peter was staring in fear. “Don’t say that again.” Tony breathed. 

 

Peter let his head roll back and he stared at the ceiling. The color of them had changed a little. Instead of the honey brown they used to be there was a red and orange color, barely noticeable but definitely there. His muscles were bulging out more than before and he’d grown since- since last time. “Okay.” 

 

Tony let out the breathe he didn’t know he’d been holding. “I have drugs synthesized to not burn off right away, they’ll last a day or two. It’ll help with the pain.” 

 

With that, the IV was stuck into Peter’s hand vein in no time and he looked better. Tony may or may not have also hooked him to a hydrator and a nutritional drip as well, he didn’t think anybody would protest too hard. 

 

Tony didn’t know what to expect with loopy Peter, he wished the clinginess and touchyness was a shock. He was also crying and weeping and the veins on his neck were popping out worryingly. 

 

“Mr. Stark I don’t want to go!” Peter whispered the tears threatening to fall down his face in waterfalls. “It hurts, it hurts, please  _ please _ , make it stop!” 

 

Tony had to gulp down the lump in his throat as he brushed the hair away from the child’s face. “You’re not going anywhere for a long time, kid.”

 

“I’m dead. It was lonely up there, they all yelled at me.” Peter sobbed, flinching away from the foreign touch. 

 

Tony froze anyway, not taking his fingers away. “Who yelled at you?” 

 

Peter took in a deep breath, his frantic crying seemed to be put to a halt and he smirked. “Birdman. That’s what Jesus called him. They fought a lot, Jesus helped me”

 

“Jesus?” 

 

Peter nodded. “Jesus. Did you know he has a metal arm? There’s also Catman, Red Finger Lady, Magic Knife Man, Tree Guy and Green Guardian Parents.” 

 

“I’m starting to think you had these drugs up there with you.” 

 

Peter giggled, unlike what he was doing about two minutes ago. His dopey smile tugged at Tony’s heartstrings. “It’s bright in here, like it was there.”

 

“F.R.I.D.A.Y., dim the lights.” Tony said, sighing when the room calmed down a little more. He rested his hand against the pulse point in Peter’s wrist and watched his unwavering smile. 

 

“Ya’know what’s kinda weird? I’m a spider-”

 

“Part spider.” Tony reminded him. 

 

“Part spider, but I can’t have sex with a spider. Apparently it’s against the law and someone’s moral compass.”

 

Tony scrunched his nose at the imagery of those words. “You still feelin’ okay, kid?” Changing the subject was probably his best bet based on where that conversation could have gone. 

 

Another bright smile, the skin on his lips cracking even more but it didn’t seem like a cause of concern to the vigilante. “Course Miser S’ark. Are you?” 

 

Tony didn’t hesitate. “Yeah, Pete, I’m alright.” 

 

Peter gave him that smile, that cheeky and utterly adorable smile. A rush of parental hormones took over Tony’s body and he soaked in that smile. He cursed when the door loudly creaked open and the teenager flinched back, clamping his hands  over his ears. 

 

Rhodey walked in after apologizing quietly and placed a hand on Tony’s shoulder. “Tony, you look like shit. Take a shower for Christ’s sake.” 

 

There was no arguing with Rhodey so he went as fast as possible/ He changed into his sweats and made coffee and some soup for Peter. When he walked back into the room he knew there’s no way anything would be going into Peter’s mouth. He was throwing up bile and water, clutching his stomach and unable to prevent tears from falling. Rhodey was awkwardly rubbing his back and holding the bucket in a tense hand. 

 

“It’s okay, kiddo.” Tony said, taking Rhodey’s job. “Let it out and you’ll feel a whole lot better.” Peter just clenched his eyes shut and let his mentor rub his back.

 

Tony couldn’t help but let out a relieved breath when Peter slumped against him, head rolling onto his shoulder in pure exhaustion. This was his life now, and he couldn’t be happier about it.


	26. Chapter 26

_“In peace, sons bury their fathers._

 

_In war, parents bury their children.”_

 

-Unknown

  
  


Mr. Rogers’ said this mission was as easy as it gets. Wipe out the base and get the hell out but when did anything ever sail that smoothly. Peter wanted to retort,  _‘if the mission is so routine then why does everyone have to go’_ but he keeps his mouth shut and puts web canisters in his belt. He says this to his mentor during the flight and feels accomplished that he chuckles.

 

“You’re a little bit of a smartass, aren’t you!” Clint cooes.

 

“Knock it off.” Natasha tells him. For good measure and to insure his silence she smacks him upside the head.

 

When the plane lands Peter is jittering. He’s shaking from nerves and adrenaline so bad that an iron hand clamps on his shoulder to steady him. It doesn’t move until they have to split up, he hears Mr. Stark and Mr. Rogers whispering in front of him.

 

“Let me go with him.”

 

Peter can practically feel the blonde rolling his eyes. “Relax, Tony. He’ll be fine, and we need you elsewhere.” The man turns and eyes Peter thought he’s addressing the group. “Does everyone remember the plan?”

 

They all nod, except for his mentor who’s eyeing him through the helmet. He says nothing as they sneak towards the obvious entrance point. Steve motions for them the head inside.

 

Mr. Stark’s faceplate retracts and he yanks Peter aside by the hand. His eyes are wide with emotions Peter couldn’t place. “You listen to me.” He says, sounding out of breath. “If anything,  _anything_ happens, you got a goddamn paper cut I want to know-”

 

“Can I get a paper cut through the-”

Mr. Stark cuts him off. “Do you understand, Parker?”

 

Peter gulps and gently removes his hand from the iron grip. “Yes, sir. Yes I understand.”

 

He looks around to make sure nobody’s listening. Peter can’t help but wonder why until the man actually says it. “If anything goes wrong I want you to run. No hero bullshit, no self-sacrifice. Not for them. You don’t die for them, you hear me?”

 

Peter blinks as he processes that. “But what about you?”

 

Mr. Stark’s jaw clenches and the faceplate comes up to cover his facial expression. “Not even me.”

 

Peter jitters even more when he’s yanked away by Mr. Barnes, the silent man made his hair stand on edge. His spider-sense was going nuts and his head was pounding. He crawled onto the ceiling and as quietly as he could, took out H.Y.D.R.A. agents before they even saw him.

 

His luck wouldn’t last forever, after all he was a Parker.

 

The injecting through the suit was quick, his senses cut out to hear a tight, “Gotcha.”

 

Everything is fuzzy and Peter thinks of fire.

 

The colors in his vision are of the warm palette. The warm chair reminds him of the latte May would bring home sometimes when they had a little extra money. The neon orange color reminds him of Ned’s Syracuse hoodie when they would sit next to each other on colder days (no, it’s  _not_ cuddling). The paler shade is one of MJ’s colored pencils that stays put behind her ear, her caramel hair curls around it and it’s art. The snug color, the one that holds the most is the color of Tony’s suit jacket. It wasn’t a special suit, just one he’d worn on a casual day when showed up at Peter’s apartment for the third time ever. It’s when Peter fully became a mentee, he would officially study under Tony Stark.

 

A softer voice comes this time and it’s right in his ear. “I got you. I got you, kid.”

 

Peter attempts to yank his arms away, to kick, fight whoever has him. He doesn’t realize that his hairs aren’t standing up and that his head isn’t pounding in fear anymore. He pulls away anyway, only to be held tighter and with so much force it hurts. He feels tears but he has no reason to cry, does he?

 

He has to be dying again and God, does he feel bad for them.

 

Peter’s aunt, his beautiful aunt. He knows Tony would take care of her if she needed it, like she ever would. That woman would run herself to the ground before she’d ever ask for help much less a man’s. He’d always looked up to her in that way, and how she kept him. May didn’t have to keep him, financially and emotionally provide for him. Then there was Ned, holy shit. The butterflies he gets with that boy is unbelievable and absolutely  _terrifying._ Then MJ, his cynical and artistic amigo whom he also adored. Then Tony Stark. Mr. Stark, who’d been like a father figure to him. The billionaire that took in that poor kid from the shitty part of Queens.

 

Peter feels sick. Sick that he’s dying too soon. Dying without saying goodbye, because that’s what this is, right? This is what dying feels like. It felt like this the first time, he’s sure. Just this time he’s alone and at peace. His body isn’t fighting anymore and neither is he.

 

Peter doesn’t believe in an afterlife or deities but he remembers them from history class. Buddhists believe in a life after death, paradise or punishment. Peter doesn’t believe in God, never really did but he can’t help but hope he’d see them on the other side.


	27. Chapter 27

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> okay so, it's kinda weird but this is a rough draft/ view into my next fic, its the first copy actually :) enjoy!!!

“How many times are you going to break curfew before I take the suit until you’re eighteen, huh?” Tony snapped. 

Without even meaning to, Peter flinched. He did so hard that he saw the flicker in his mentor’s eyes that he couldn’t exactly place. He was beginning to get angry. Why didn’t he understand that Peter  _ needs _ Spider-Man?

“I’m gonna break my curfew to save people, with or without the suit.” Peter told him, earning a strangled groan from the older man.

“You know what? Fuck- fine.” 

Peter left, suit in a death grip in his left hand. 

And he did. He saved people for a couple weeks, avoiding the tower and anywhere his mentor could be. He knew he’d have to talk to the man eventually, but he wouldn’t be the first to cave. He  _ wouldn’t. _

Peter was wrong, so wrong it was comedical. Getting shot was honestly the highlight of his week, but seeing his grumpy mentor after not speaking to him for almost a month wouldn’t be fun. 

His first mistake was swinging there. He  _ swung _ to the tower with a gunshot wound in his  _ arm.  _ Peter knows it was an idiot move but he’s never really like technicalities. 

He finally makes his way inside and spots Tony. He’d had civilian clothes on now, the ripped suit in his right hand as he pushed it at the genius. 

“Please fix it, there’s a rip in the left arm. I’ll come get it tomorrow.” 

Peter left without another glance. 

The next day was uneventful until he went to pick up his suit again. He walked into the lab and Tony was practically steaming. The man grabbed Peter’s arm lightly but sternly and lifted the sleeve to investigate the wound. 

“You’re an idiot, Parker.” Tony near-growls. “You think I’m just gonna fix that suit and not wonder why there’s a gaping hole in the arm? Imbecile.” 

Peter says nothing as Tony inspects it. He forces himself not the wince or cry, even though he’s completely on the verge of tears. He doesn’t really know why, but Tony definately notices when his expression softens.

Tony huffs out and lets his hand fall away from the teenager’s arm. He rubs the bridge of his nose. “How ‘bout you stay for the night and we can talk this through like civilized people. That sound okay? Pete?”

He’s zoned out. He’s trying so hard not to let the goddamn tears fall that the  man’s hand on his back is a tipping point. He steps away as the sobs wreck him, make him shake in exertion. The noises hurt his own ears though they are soft and he can’t hide it anymore. Tony is rubbing his back awkwardly and shushing him like he’s a little kid. 

“I’m sorry, Mr. Stark b-but I have to go. Now.” 

Tony doesn’t let go. “I missed you, kid. Stay awhile.” He says softly. 

Peter finally curls into him, wrapping his arms so tight around Tony that the man has to gently loosen them. “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.” He wails. 

His mentor rests his head atop Peter’s after running his hands through the sweaty curly. “It’s not your fault, shh. It’s okay.”


	28. are we there yet?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I should have the new fic posted in the next 2-3 days, sorry for the wait!!! Here's a small clip from it though :) (an unedited clip lmao don't worry it's better)

Tony had to admit, the kid pounding on the lab door was unexpected but not unwelcome. It'd been a few days since he'd seen his little vigilante mentee. Dare to say he'd missed Peter. 

 

So when Tony opened the door he didn't expect a red faced and lip quivering teenage boy in front of him. Peter's eyes were bloodshot and they were glazed over with tears, his hair was fluffy and hung in his forehead and Tony had to hold the urge to brush it away.

 

“Kid what-” 

 

“Are we there yet?” Peter asked, probably louder than he wanted. 

 

“Are we what-  _ oh.”  _

 

Tony remember their car ride to the kid's apartment. He  _ had _ wanted to hug Peter, but didn't want to boost his ego which is ironic since the kid was merely his own egotistical mission until he got attached. 

 

“Are we?” Peter whimpered. 

 

Tony softened his posture and nodded. Not even a second later did he get an armful of limp teenage boy. He had to admit he froze for a second before pulling Peter closer and tighter. He listened as the boy sobbed, not knowing what to say. Tony let the hand on Peter's neck wander to his curls, brushing through them while the boy calmed. 

 

“Yeah, kid. We're there.”


	29. Chapter 29

“You’re telling me that the suit just… ripped?” Tony exhaled, rubbing the bridge of his nose between two fingers. “Out of nowhere. The billion dollar suit that I handcrafted just  _ ripped _ by itself-”

 

Peter rolled his eyes. “Okay! So maybe it didn’t just rip.”

 

His mentor let out an exasperated breath. “Care to explain, Mr. Parker?” 

 

“So, I was kinda fighting this robbed, as all vigilantes do and he was kinda good at his robbing shit-”

 

“Watch your language.” Tony mumbled.

 

“Anyway, he was k-kinda good at robbing, and he was prepared with a knife but I swear I only bled a little please don’t take it-”

 

Tony held up his hands, effectively silencing the teenager. “Take a breather, kid. I’m not taking your suit but I will if you don’t come to me right when things like this happen.”

 

Peter shuffled a little uncomfortable. He stared at the floor to avoid the older man’s intruding eyes and swallowed loudly. On that note, his hip still hurt and it was only bleeding slightly under its butterfly bandages and expired gauze. 

 

“Pete, when did you say this happened?” The billionaire asked, stepping into Peter’s personal space more than he would have liked right now. 

 

“I didn’t, sir.” 

 

“Parker, I swear to God-”

 

“It happened on my way here.” Peter admitted, shuffling around and letting his eyes fall shut. He was too tired to feel even a little guilty, his exhaustion was quickly taking over. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to tell Tony, Peter doesn’t want to bother him with… his existence. There was already a time where the man had ignored him yet kept him close, watched him from afar. The leash had only gotten shorter the closer they got, Peter doesn’t mind (too much). 

 

Tony’s demeanor shifted from exasperation to straight out curiosity. “Why didn’t Happy drive you?”

 

Peter didn’t want to get Happy in trouble but right now, he was a little peeved at the man himself. “He hung up on me.” He said quietly as if saying it would melt the world before them.

 

His mentor grumbled something unintelligible and ran a calloused hand over his face. “Let’s get you cleaned  up, yeah?” 

 

Peter let him. Tony bandaged up his small wound ( _“Super-healing,_ _remember?!”)_ and made him drink an entire glass of water. This made small talk, the man was softer than Peter could have imagined. He was gentle despite the roughness of his hands. He assumes it’s a metaphor or whatever. Tony was always rugged and cracked, but when you peel back the pain you get velvet. Gentle hands ruffled his hair and he felt comfortable and safe. It was oddly parental, Peter definitely didn’t mind that either.

 

Peter began drifting asleep during the boring movie Tony put on, probably hoping he  _ would _ fall asleep. His mentor was next to him and tapping of his StarkPad, not paying attention to anything. When his head rolled against the man’s shoulder he shot up, wobbly on his feet and muttering an apology.

 

“Sit down, kid.” Tony said without even looking up, fingers moving quickly over the screen. “Sleeping means healing. I think I can handle your snoring for the next few hours.”

 

Peter sat back down, this time intentionally snuggling up to the man. “I do not  _ snore. _ ”

 

Tony only shrugged, Peter missed the way a small smile slipped across his face as he pulled the blankets up to his own chin. “Just go to sleep, Parker.”

 


	30. Chapter 30

Tony couldn’t stop seeing stars. He saw them everywhere, every time he looked into the night sky or even at the darkness of his bedroom ceiling. He imagined  them dancing for the moon and shining.

 

It was a blessing and a curse. 

 

The wormhole in New York. He saw stars there too, at least, until he closed his eyes. He thought he’d become one that day. 

 

Tony knows people are made of stardust. Every element has a little bit of a dying star, the iron in blood even. He runs a finger over the veins of his arm and he thinks it’s grey. He closes his eyes and lets his eyes fall shut again. 

 

He can hear Pepper yelling for him. With the short mumble to his Al he locks the door and shut his eyes again, stars beneath his lids.  He doesn’t open them again for awhile. 

 

Tony doesn’t feel, doesn’t open his eyes until the stars fade and there’s only darkness. 

 

Darkness, red lights. 

 

_ “That’s a one way trip-” _

 

His eyes close amongst the red lights, the bright gold ones shine through his eyelids and there’s no protection from the lights rays beating into his skull. There’s no way out of this, no prevail, no forgiveness. 

 

Nothing until the door cracks open, it breaks under pressure and without thinking Tony calls the iron man armor to shield him, blasters going off. 

 

“Mr. Stark, it’s me!” A shrill voice squeaks, it sounds wrecked. There’s panting and a thud right next to him. The armor is stuck to the wall with a couple  _ thwips _ . 

 

It’s Peter. Peter Parker. Tony had just tried to kill his protege. His genius,   _ innocent-until-further-innuendo _ intern. He doesn’t even know how to describe the emotions, the hurt he feels and the periodical numbness. 

 

“You- You need to go. Peter, you have to go.” Tony said sternly, hating how his face dropped. 

 

Peter shook his head, unmoving to Tony’s hands pushing him out. “I’m not leaving, Mr. Stark.”

 

“Kid-”

 

“Sorry I ruined your… metal.” Peter said in an ashamed tone. His eyes were stuck to the web-shooters strapped to his wrists as he paled under pressure. 

 

Tony sighed, stepping towards the teenager. He waved his hands to gesture at himself. “My fault.” His hands fell on Peter’s tense shoulders. “Listen, that’s- that’s just a defense mechanism. Are you alright, kid?” 

 

Peter gulped and nodded, smiling softly. “I’m fine, sir. Just a little worried, are  _ you _ okay?” 

 

He had to bite his cheek to keep from laughing.  _ Was he? _ He’d just tried to kill a teenage boy, one he was quite fond of for that matter. Despite his natural deflection, he didn’t want to lie. How could he lie to someone like Peter? 

 

“How ‘bout we get some dinner-”

 

He giggled, Tony made a mental note to permanently save that footage from F.R.I.D.A.Y. and keep listening. “It’s almost eleven at night!” 

 

Tony scoffed jokingly and bumped into Peter side. “ _ Any _ time is dinner time if you’re hungry enough.”

 

Tony knows ignoring his problems won’t solve them but for now, Peter Parker is a good distraction.


	31. Chapter 31

 

Peter woke up screaming on that damn Q-Ship or whatever and the green lady- Gamora, he thinks her name was- began to panic. She called in Doctor Strange, he was a little more frustrated than worried at the meltdown and opted to get somebody else. Since Tony didn’t appear anytime soon, he climbed into the corner and held his breath. 

 

Mantis tried to grab him before Gamora smacked her hand away in ernst, claiming that Stark would kill all of them if he saw his child unconscious. He didn’t miss they way the doctor’s head nodded quickly in agreement. 

 

“I want my mom!” Peter let out in a sob. He felt delirious, he wanted his dead mother for God’s sakes. He feels like a child, crying for his parents that won’t come. For the mom that isn’t even alive to save him. 

 

_ “I’m sorry...” _

 

Peter was floundering like he was drowning, like he couldn’t get any air. His chest rose and shook in nothing but shakes and he tugged at his shaggy hair. After pulling out a few the big blue guy grabbed his hands and held them in front of him, only causing Peter’s panic to worsen. 

 

“I want my mom-”

 

“What is going on?” Tony roared, glaring daggers at the blue man holding Peter’s hands so tight they were red. 

 

“Your ward was screaming.” Strange told him, lacking of emotion. “He was breaking the ship.”

 

His mentor stepped forward while Peter scrambled back, up against the metal wall as he met Tony eye to eye. The softness, the smooth grip on his waist as he pulled the teenager down. Peter just buried himself into his mentor’s side. Both Tony’s arms held him tight, like a shield. Tony held him tight, like if he didn’t Peter would start to fall apart again between his finger tips. 

 

“If anybody touches him again- you know what? I won’t finish that threat. Don’t touch him again.” 

 

Quill scoffed and rolled his eyes, hand placing themself on his hips as he sauntered in front of them. “Control your kid next time.” 

 

With that they left, Tony sat down with Peter in his lap. God, he felt like a little kid, so  _ young _ in his armor. The metal he’d died in. The metal he’ll probably die in, time after time. 

 

Peter felt lips pressed to his temple and the mutter of this song. That old, sad song that was nothing more than a distant memory right now. The lyrics were honey between his mentor’s lips and his lungs didn’t shake with ash anymore.


	32. fight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> IMPORTANT END NOTES

It wasn’t going well for Tony to say the least. He’d been in such a pissy mood all day, almost crushing DUM-E’s wire, even arguing with F.R.I.D.A.Y. over the weather- the  _ weather.  _

 

What he didn’t expect or particularly want was for a bloodied and bruised Spider-Baby to crawl through his bedroom window and scare him half to death.

 

Tony gripped his chest and tried to calm his breathing. “Jesus fuciing christ kid!” He heaved. “Are you trying to kill me?” 

 

Peter didn’t chirp back like normal, which should have really set off an alarm in his head. Considering he was more emotionally constipated that usual, the analysis didn’t overcome him. “Sorry, sir. Just needed a bandaid or two.” 

 

Tony walked over the Peter’s crouched position next to the bed. It was one of the most disgusting things he’d ever seen after the teenage vigilante took off the spider mask.

 

Peter’s face was scratched up, blood was dripping down his neck and his mask was drenched in it, his blood was seeping into the carpet under it. His lip was split and his eyes were underlined with and bruise that was starting to swell up. 

 

“What the- Peter!” Tony yelled, rubbing the bridge of his nose. “Listen, I know you’ve get this reputation to uphold but you need to take care of yourself. Got it? No patrolling for three days.”

 

Peter shrunk back at being yelled at. His exerted body was trembling as he stood up to eye level with Tony. “Whatever.” He rolled his eyes. 

 

That just made the man madder. “ _ Whatever?  _ Is this some kinda  party trick now? I thought you were responsible, maybe not to almost bleed to death from your face.” 

 

Tony’s mood was rubbing off on Peter now, the kid just walked past into the bathroom and Tony froze at the small sob. The sib that made the kid’s chest shake and his fists ball at his sides.  _ He made his kid cry. _

 

TOny walked in and placed a gentle hand on Peter’s shoulder, hating how he flinched. “Pete, I’m sorry. Let me help you, please? My fault, here. I know it hurts.” 

 

Peter let Tony wash his face softly while he bit back cries at the pressing of his cuts. Most were already beginning to scab, some were scarring and TOny was almost afraid they would stay there. 

 

Peter got into his pajamas and crawled into TOny’s bed, letting his head he cushioned by the mans chest. 

 

“I’m sorry I yelled at you.” Tony whispered into his crown. “I just worry.” 

 

Peter sighed and let his eyes flttere close. “S’okay.” He yawns. “Sorry for bleeding on the carpet.”

 

Tony chuckled and ignored Peter’s soft throaty noise when his hands began playong with his cursls.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SO, i had a few ideas and i'd really like some feedback
> 
> 1- I want to start a new series with tony adopting peter when his parent drop him off before leaving and not coming back, and tony is struggling to help this little boy that keeps asing when his parents are coming to get him, how to grows up and even rings the avengers into more of a team? maybe? if its what you're interested   
> 2- i don't celebrate christmas, but i wanted to do the 25 days of whump(angst) what do you think???  
> 3- Easy Like Sunday morning is going to have 4 chapter total, stay tuned!!!
> 
> Have a lovely day :)


	33. Chapter 33

Everybody in America has suffered through some part of school, especially Peter Parker. The tests, the endless hours of homework, everything. Peter can barely slur a goodbye to his aunt at six in the morning when he has to leave for the train.

 

Peter doesn’t drink water, either. Teachers don’t let students use the bathroom during class, so he lessens his suffering. Sure, black spots swarm his vision every once in awhile and he wobbles on his feet a little but it’s normal. It’s his normal.

 

It’s average until Peter’s not in school and he’s fighting along his heroes- his  _ heroes _ \- and his shitty body gives out on him. He completely collapses, he passes out when his head smacks along the pavement with the others calling his name. 

 

When he wakes up, it’s in the MedBay of the tower, white walls behind white lab coats and striking grey technology. He stares at the plain ceiling until he senses people, hears them breathing and his head throbs in remorse. 

 

“What the hell were you thinking?” Mr. Stark scolds, pushing Peter back against the bed as he tries to sit up to greet them. His teammates are giving him looks of annoyance and almost… worry. Nonetheless, he ignores them and stares straight ahead. 

 

“Peter, this is serious.” Steve says sternly. Peter doesn’t miss the disappointment laced through his voice, broadcasting it loud and clear.

 

In all honestly, Peter feels alienated with his team. The most interaction they make with him these days are to fight, then they tell him to get back home and utter quick goodbyes. Since he’s just a kid as all of them like to make very clear he isn’t seen as powerful. It was beginning to wear him down more than he’d count on. It would build up inside him until saturdays came along and Tony would ask what’s wrong, each time he would flood out and tell him sometimes more angry than other days. He wouldn’t cry, but he would accept hugs from his mentor then awkwardly work with soft music in the background.

 

Peter jolts when there’s a soft hand on his shoulder, one on his knee. He lets his eyes lock with Bruce and is met with care, softness. The scientist was never really like this others. Peter was never belittled with him, only treated with uttermost respect. He smiles thinly when the older man clears his throat. “Give him some space, get out.” He tells them.

 

Bruce himself leaves and now it’s just Tony and Peter, he feels more nervous than before. His mentor’s distrust would deteriorate him, discouragement was a sin in superhero business. 

 

“Kid, you’re killing me. Instead of the whole lecture how ‘bout we skip to the part where you promise to take care of yourself more, kay?” 

 

Peter nods but keeps his mouth shut until Tony shoves his pinkie finger in his face. “Really?” 

 

His mentor nods, a serious expression splays over his face. “Pinkie-swears are super,  _ super _ serious, Parker. Just do it.” 

 

Peter locks his pinkie with Tony’s and shakes a little, allowing a giggle to slip his lips. It’s gone when the billionaire stays solemn and sad, like he’s just watched a puppy being kicked.


	34. easy like sunday morning

Peter loves sundays, loves sleeping in, loves being with Ned and  _definitely not_  cuddling on the squeaky twin bed mattress. He loves waking up to the sound of May’s singing and the smell of her burning pancakes, to the breeze coming through his window. One time, they slow danced to the soft buzz of the radio just like her and Ben did when Peter was much younger.

_(The sunday after his death was the worst of his life)_

Peter loves the sundays he wakes up in his room at the compound after the night (and most of the same morning) of working with his mentor. He loves the mornings he walks into the kitchen and Vision is making omelettes while Mr. Stark and Colonel Rhodes are bickering like kindergartners. He relishes in the one-armed hugs he gets from both older men before Happy whisks him into the backseat of his car, trying and failing to hide his smirk.

Sometimes, he skips patrolling on sundays. Peter decides that Spider-Man is active 23/6 and he sleeps down his guilt the same afternoon. He even crams homework on saturday night just so he doesn’t have to get out of bed. May calls him delusional, Peter calls it driven.

_(Skipping patrol makes May happy, but he’d never admit that’s the real reason he does it)_

The sundays he spends upstate are just as lazy with a little more moving. He goes from his bedroom to the couch where he meets Mr. Stark for a movie marathon if he’s not too busy. The man always seems to have a clear schedule when the teenager is there and Peter won’t question it. The billionaire also seems more alert, not necessarily on edge but aware, alive. Mrs. Potts says it’s because of him and Peter ignores the older man’s pink blush and denial for both of their sakes.

Peter’s favorite sundays were the ones he spent curled up with May. She always smelled good, even when she comes home from twenty-hour hospital shifts she manages to smell like lavender. He melts in it while she runs her hands through his curls and hums songs under the blanket forts that come to life in their dim apartment.

_(Their last one together is like this)_

Aunt May dies on a rainy sunday morning. She had been walking home from a Saturday night hospital shift- she hated those, passionately- when her old car was T-boned out of nowhere. She didn't live through the ambulance ride there. It’s what she would have called  _Parker Luck_ , and Peter’s the only one left for the phrase to affect.

So easily, something is ruined,  _destroyed_  for a dramatic affect.

Some things stay the same, Peter doesn't leave his bed but that's no different than another day now. Her bedroom door stays closed so he can take comfort in his loneliness, that maybe she's just sleeping. Maybe she's just working again, but then again that got him in this mess in the first place.

_(He has a tie for the worst sunday of his life, will it ever get better?)_

Peter sees a way out, the light to an endless tunnel of hurt, the pain that won’t ever go away.

It’s been four sundays of constant elite barging among the walls of his mind. There’s no end, no hero to save him. Every warm light was extinguished within the consuming darkness.

_(Blood is dripping onto the tiles, the specks in his vision make them cloudier)_

Sundays he wakes up and the scars are gone, they’re gone so when he enters the lab with nearly-black under eye bags it’s another thing he doesn’t have to tell his mentor. He can’t sleep in anymore because he can’t sleep, period. He keeps himself busy and pretends not to notice the Avengers sending worried looks, pity looks his way. They treat him like glass, like his skin will shatter under harsh words or anything less then a short smile.

Peter doesn’t think they have to, he’s already broken with the pieces scattered everywhere.

_(They turn their heads at his irritated wrists and thighs after he snapped at them for prodding)_

When Steve approaches him he’s startled so badly he jumps onto the ceiling with a yelp. The man feels bad about the scare and leaves him alone, Tony shakes his head and mutters something about his lack of real backbone, but other than that watches from afar.

After all, Peter isn’t their son and he’s definitely not part of this family.

He’s not part of this family because his family is  _dead_ , Peter is all that’s left. He looks in the window and could swear he didn’t mean to break it. He didn’t mean to break it but his face holds sadness that his soul can no longer deal with.

_(Blood from his heart is on the walls, his knuckles bleed with hurt along the broken mirror)_

On one particularly bad night when he can’t stop his cries from going through his bathroom walls and F.R.I.D.A.Y. finally tattles on him, he shares this with Tony. The man ends the night with an armful of sobbing and bloody-bruised teenager. Peter’s embarrassment is as thick as molasses, but after all he is a little slow in accepting love.

He tries not to humm when he feels Tony’s calloused finger gently scratching his scalp. After all, the man leaves eventually. Peter knows they all do but his heart hurts when the door is quietly shut with a click, He’s alone yet again.

_(His body aches in his own remorse to feel the grounding hands on his frail skin)_

Nine sundays after that Peter stayed in the lab, he cracks his second smile  _since_ … since. It gone as quickly as it was there, and he ignore the stares he gets from his mentor. It’s some kind of a start, he thinks. It’s a start to the sew because that night when he can’t sleep and his tears are brimmed with tears he calls out. His voice cracks and he looks to the ceiling.

“F.R.I.D.A.Y… I think I-um, need help.”

Unlike the encounters he’s seen with Tony, the Al is softer with the teenager. Maybe she took up context clues, maybe she was programmed that way, Peter didn’t really know. “Mr. Stark was alerted of the situation.”

_(It is a start, the first stitch to the halves of himself)_

Peter tries not to dwell on the man’s soft voice reserved for him and the even softer ways the rough hands hold him. He tries to fight away at the nearly suffocating embrace he’s in, even though he’s breathing just fine. Tony rubs out knots in his back soothingly and runs a thumb over his cheekbone every so often.

“Sleep, kid. I’ll be here when you wake up.”

In his exhausted daze, he spills a secret. It’s a small one, but emotionally tolling nonetheless. The mumbled words roll off Peter’s tongue before he can stop them. “I can’t sleep without music Mister Stark, she used to sing to me when I was little.” His chuckle came out humorless and dry.

He felt his mentor nod but his grip didn’t loosen. Peter let his eyes flutter shut under Tony’s thumbs closing them. He was too tired to protest, too comfortable to move.

_(This is the warmest he’s been in a long time)_

Then Tony begins to humm into Peter’s scalp. After a song or two and tension slowly dripping out of the muscles on his back he starts to drift. He doesn’t want to, Peter doesn’t want this to  _end_  because what if he doesn’t get this again? To feel this okay again just to diminish?

In these moments he regrets hurting himself, hates that he tore apart his skin and bled in a sanctuary. Other moments he wished he had carved his skin to make oceans of blood in his white and stained-pink bathtub.

Sundays aren’t his favorite days but they become bearable with time. Tony tells him that time does heal, mentally and physically. Peter takes in every word the man says like he’s spewing the bible. They talk and work in the lab, Peter starts to skip sunday patrols again.

_(This makes Tony happy, though that’s not the reason he does it)_


	35. some old fic

Peter feels like he’s frozen in one of those movie moments,  _you’re probably wondering how I got into this situation!_

 

He’s wondering, too.

 

The day was going pretty shitty, he can’t lie to himself about that one. This morning he got an emergency distress signal call leaving him to escape his quiz in pre-calc. He couldn’t help but laugh at the jealous looks of the students as he disappeared down the hall.

 

Right about now he’d rather be taking that ten question quiz.

 

The wizard that Mr. Stark had said  _was not_ a wizard, just a crazy sorcerer, has done a little bit of damage. The guy had so many knives that Peter didn’t know where he was carrying them all. Magic, man. Spider-Man had gotten thrown around pretty much, he seemed to be the main target which was a nice change until it wasn’t so nice.

 

Peter got stabbed. Three times actually, each time less pleasant than the previous and it was each added an hour to the lecture he was sure to get from his mentor.

 

If he got the chance.

 

“This is so sad,” Peter wheezes and ignores the way blood paints his lips on every breath. “Karen, play  _Despacito_.”

 

End freeze frame and funny music and he’s dying. Plain and simple, Peter is going to bleed out on the dirty Queens sidewalk while Iron Man fights some crackhead with a wand. He thinks that there’s worse ways to die.

 

To be fair,  _dying_ is the worst day to die. He couldn’t do that to May and Mr. Stark. Peter wouldn’t live down his death  _ever._ Today was just not his day, and who even died in the summer! Nobody cool, that’s for sure.

 

Then said man was leaning over him, faceplate retracting to show his bruised face. Peter winced when the older man pressed hard on one of the wounds, making him cough and splutter more.

 

Mr. Stark sounded absolutely  _wrecked_ when he shook himself out if the shock. “You’re alright.”

 

Peter did something he never thought he would. He pulled his mask over his head and looked into his mentor’s glassy eyes, they were bloodshot and wild in the dim lighting. “I’m sorry, Tony.”

The name made him flinch, but Peter was in so much pain he barely noticed.

 

So much  _pain._ He barely hears Mr. Stark talking to him, metal hands pressing to his ribcage. Bright lights above him, wind breezing around him and the sky is falling around him.

 

Oh God, what if May had to bury him. He’d be next to Ben, cozied up in a cheap coffin with a pale undertone of bitterness. The flowers would die, and so would the rest of her. She would wilt in all her beauty because losing a child is the worst.

 

 _“Baby, if you die I die.”_ She would say when he came back from a particularly rough patrol.

 

 _“And if you die, I feel like that’s on me.”_ Tony told him last year after the ferry incident.

 

Peter let out a wet sob when they touchdown, metal hands are still holding him upward, blood drips from them onto Mrs. Pott’s white tile floors.  

 

So much  _pain,_ bright lights that make him clamp his eyes shut, warm hands scratching at his scalp for comfort. Chilly air around him and the smell of medicine and cleanliness make him realize exactly where he is. A needle slides into his arm after the Spider-Man suit is shimmied off his trembling body.

 

 _Not cool_ , he thought.

 

Cold. Cold water touched his arm and he’s drowning. Back in the Hudson river he’s drowning, it’s cold. His legs are tangled and his lungs are filled with that cold water. The chill in his bones stay for days after Iron Man came to save him.

 

The lights. If he opens his eyes he’ll see the pain. Obviously not his own, but those that hurt for him. He’ll see Mr. Stark pacing with a black eye and a prominent limp, he’ll see Happy on the phone, probably with his aunt. If he looks he’ll see the hurt looks of the doctors and of Dr. Banner holding the vile of IV drips between sweaty fingers. The light of death that is usually dark would come to him. Too young to die but not enough to be spared, a cruel light shines on his path and he can’t choose which to follow.

 

“I don’t want to die.” Peter whispers, the darkness behind his closed eyes provide no comfort.

 

The air. The aura of agony is strong in his debut, too strong for his adolescence. It’s cold to the pulp and his palms shake when there’s nothing. There’s no anchors, no do-overs like there once was.

 

“I’m sorry, please, I don’t want to go.” He sobs.

 

Nobody’s there.

“Sir, please, please. I don’t want to go, I don’t want to go!”

 

The monitors are going haywire, sweat drips down his cheeks and mix with tears. The IV drip is constant, blood is heavy on his tongue with each cry for help.

 

“I’m sorry.”

 

_Ben is gently lifting him to look through a telescope. He blinks and looks to the atmosphere around them._

 

_“Why is the sky blue?” Peter asked in his childish ramblings, his curls falling between his eyes and the night. “Is it sad?”_

 

_Ben would smile and brush the bangs out of his face. “No, Pete. Blue doesn’t always mean sad. Remember what May said at dinner?”_

 

_Peter smiles up at his uncle and giggle. “When I miss mommy and daddy, look at the sky.”_

 

_“Do you see them yet?” Ben asks, his tone is remorseful, something little Peter never would  have caught on to._

 

_He makes a show of looking back into the telescope. “Yeah, Uncle Ben!”_

 

The sky is falling around him, each piece crumbling next to the clouds. Stardust is breathable with the oxygen filling his lungs, blood falls like raindrops between his shaky fingers. There’s the ash of planets, it’s blue, too. They sprinkle calmingly around him like snowflakes.

 

_“Peter, what did I say about- are you okay?”_

 

_He didn’t turn to face her, his eyes were glued on the sky above him. He was desperately searching for stars, it was hard in Queens with all the lights but sometimes he got lucky._

 

_“As I’ll ever be.” He mutters as she kisses his cheek softly._

 

_May rests her hands on his shoulders and looks up at the sky. “What are you looking for?”_

 

_Peter shrugs._

 

The saying your life flashes before your eyes is an understatement of the century. He saw colors, people, everything in the cosmos. He saw the ash that danced into the wind and then how it stitched back together with a strange hue of orange.

 

_“Mr. Stark?” Peter said, holding his hands out as they were burning him. “I don’t feel so good.” He spluttered._

 

_The man turned in horror, his eyes wide, arms beginning to outstretch as if to catch the pieces blowing through the wind- the rubble of Peter’s hands between his solid ones. “You’re alright.”_

 

_They crashed and for a blissful moment, Peter okay except for his legs were slowly disintegrating beneath them both and he was struggling to stand. “I don- I don’t know what’s happening.” He cried. “I don’t want to go, I don’t want to go.”_

 

_Mr. Stark held him impossibly closer, a hand tangled in his hair for comfort that wouldn’t be there in a few seconds. The man’s chest shook and he grunted at their combined weight, Peter felt guilty, death’s toll was a high price in the youth he assumes._

 

_“Sir, please, please! I don’t want to go, I don’t want to go!”_

 

_They fell to the ground, Mr. Stark’s arm wrapped securely behind his back but it wasn’t enough to keep Peter from crumbling under the hold. His eyes were lined with tears and the guilt was crushing Peter, literally. Before his lungs could turn to dust he managed a simple phrase but one that would hang the stars._

 

_“I’m sorry.”_

 

_Peter looked to the sky, unable to look at his mentor much longer. He looked up for the comfort before the wind blew away at his body, he became one with the sky that day._

 

Ache. His lungs felt like they were filled with water and he shivered in anticipation. There was a hand cupping his cheek, hands brushing away his hair and another holding his IV-taped hand. People were saying things, barking out orders, changing bandages, wiping away sweat, blood and tears from his face and body.

 

Peter opened his eyes and winced almost immediately at the light. Without thinking he began to rip the wires away, starting with the IV drip needle. Before anyone would notice he tore them off his chest, letting his chest sting.

 

“Pete, you gotta calm down.”

 

The voice was Mr. Stark’s, he sounded like he was trying to soothe a rabid animal. His touch even gentler along the tense muscles of the teenager’s back.

 

“Hi, guess who.” Mr. Stark said with no heat behind the words. “You’re safe, I promise.”

 

Peter shook the blurriness away from his eyes. “Mr. Stark?”

“That’s the name, don’t wear it out.” He chuckled but didn’t stop rubbing circles across Peter’s spine. “You’re alright.”

 

The boy turned to look at the billionaire, he was obviously worried but Peter stayed oblivious for both of their well beings. “What happened?”

 

Mr. Stark froze for a moment, his cheeks turned a shade of pink Peter had never seen on the man. “Let’s talk about that later, okay? Sick spider-kids need to rest and I need to hook you back up-”

 

Peter ignored the name jab and speaked in protest. “No! Please, no, I can’t sleep in here. Please, Mr. Stark.”

 

His mentor rubbed the bridge of his nose and sighed. “I’m throwing you under the bus when Helen Cho asks whose ass to kick for letting you leave.”

 

“Deal.”

 

Peter was led back to Mr. Stark’s bedroom, the man coming up with an oddly parental excuse. He also decided not to bring up the limp and bruised eye, that would be for another day.

 

The billionaire pushed him into the bed after giving him comfy clothes and pulled the blankets up to his chin, making him giggle. “If you need anything, ask F.R.I.D.A.Y. until I get up here.”

 

Peter blinked. “You’re not staying?”

 

Mr. Stark looked taken back. “You want me to after- after that?”

 

“After what? Why wouldn’t I want you to stay?”

 

The older man shook his head and sat at the edge of his bed. In the dim lights he looked ten years older, broken down, a shell. Peter felt guilty, he was most definitely the culprit of the grey hairs sprouting from the man’s beard and hair alike. “I almost got you killed, Pete.” It was so quiet that if he didn’t have heightened sense it would have been unintelligible.

 

Peter rolled his eyes. “With all due respect, sir,  _everybody_ almost kills me. It’s like.. initiation. One time, Ned pushed me out of a tree-”

 

“Why were you climbing a tree?” He asked, suddenly snapped from his depressive earlier state.

 

“That’s not the point!” Peter whined. He placed a hand on his mentor’s forearm and prayed it didn’t get swatted away. When it didn’t, he continued. “It’s not your fault.”

 

Their eye contact made Peter a little uncomfortable at the intensity. “It already was once.”

 

Peter shook his head again and used a little super strength to pull the man up next to him against the headboard. He boldly laid his head on the man’s thigh and curled into his lap, earning a hands in his hair and a comforting sigh. “It wasn’t. Even if it was, you fixed it, I’m back, everyone’s back. You saved the world, you’re a hero. You’re my hero.”

 

He ignores Mr. Stark’s quiet sniffling and continued on his sleepy rant, only interrupted by a yawn. “I mean, Tony Stark. Not Iron Man. That guy’s cool and all but he’s no Mr. Stark.”

 

“You practice monologuing or something?” Mr. Stark asked, getting a particularly bad tangle out of a longer curl.

 

Peter shrugs against the man’s legs and yawns again. Thank God for his tired state making him admit everything without feeling consequences, regret or embarrassment.

 

He misses the way Mr. Stark is staring at him, unable to take his eyes away from the child beneath him. Peter just snuggles in closer and closes his eyes. “Learned from the best.”

 

Mr. Stark runs a gentle hand over his shoulders, rubbing out the hardened knots in them. “Well I teach the best.”

 

Peter lets out a small huff of breath. The sleepiness is blurring his vision but his grip on Mr. Stark’s pant leg doesn’t loosen. “Sorry you gotta deal with me.”

 

“You’re my kid, Pete. We’re in it ‘till the end of the line.”

 

 _For once_ , he thinks,  _this isn’t half bad._


	36. Chapter 36

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I wrote this in 4 minutes

It was after the first few death jokes that Tony began to worry. 

 

Yeah, maybe he was rubbing off on Peter in a way he didn't really like but when asked, his aunt said he'd always joked like that. 

 

Tony didn't like it. 

 

Today, Peter had stubbed his toe. That was all it took for his usual life threatening cursing today. 

 

“Fuck!  _ Fuck!” _ Peter yelped. “Kill me, fuck that hurts.” 

 

Tony couldn't help but whip around and see the boy wobbling in pain. He went over to place a steadying hand between his shoulder blades and waited for the chaos to die down. 

 

“Sorry, Mr. Stark” Peter said sheepishly, walking away from the man as a blush spread across his face. “Sensitive toes.” 

 

Tony bit his lip at a possible innuendo and went to stand in front of the kid, placing both hands on his shoulders,  _ hard.  _ He couldn't escape.  

 

“Talk to me,” he pleaded. “Pete, tell me what's the matter.” 

 

Peter bit his lip, obviously nervous. “It's nothing, Mr. Stark. If I wanted to die it would be pretty easy.” A breath. “I wouldn't do it” 

 

“But you thought about it.” Tony asked pointedly. He was dreading the answer, he was shirt from scared. 

 

Peter shrugged and looked away, avoiding the man's concerned gaze. 

 

“When you feel like this,” Tony swallowed the lump in his throat. “I want you to call me. Don't care what time it is, call me and I'll get you.” 

 

Peter shook his head quickly. “I don't want to bother-”

 

“Youre not bothering me, if you were you wouldn't still be here “

 

The tears by Peter's lash line spoke louder than his words would. Carefully, Tony pulled him in and rubbed gentle fingers up and down his spine.  

 


	37. Hir- aeth

This wasn’t the first time the idea went running through Tony’s head, but this time it was a sober thought. He ran a fimble hand over the glasses and folded them neatly into his chest pocket. The Binarily Augmented Retro-Framing device was meant exactly for this, to clear traumatic memories.

Tony hates himself for thinking this because nothing with Peter should have ever been a traumatic memory. Nothing with that snarky little vigilante should have gone this far, but he failed another one of his responsibilities.

He couldn’t get caught up in them when he had paperwork to fill out; he had to fill in as CEO after all.

That night after Tony had settled into the lab he found himself glancing at Peter’s old work desk. There were formulas scribbled on multicolored post-it notes and a half-written english essay next to Hamlet. The kid loved english, poetry and all the shit was a forte of his-everything was his forte, he was a genius after all.

Tony pinches the bridge of his nose and down his glass. Everything is so quiet it’s nerving, it nearly makes him flinch at the change. The only reason he adapted to working with sound was from Peter’s constant chattering. He never wanted it to end.

The LEGO set on the edge of the wooden desk made him wince. A kid, a child once had his hands here, yet he fought amongst and against gods and super soldiers. Tony unconsciously reaches for the glasses in his pockets and gives them a once-over.

He slides them over his eyes and sees red.

-

“Mr. Stark-!”

Tony can’t help but sigh at his mentee before grabbing his outstretched hand. “I’m fine, kid.” 

Peter’s mouth snaps shut as Tony reaches his feet, unable to stop the groan from escaping his tongue. He feels a hand on his back and knows the kid’s eyes are watching him, searching for anything so obviously out of place; something he can fix. 

From the corner of his eye, Bug Girl and Star-Lord are looking around wearily. “Something happening.”

Before Tony steps away to make a comment like ‘no shit,’ she’s gone with the breeze. His blood runs cold and he quickly swivels around to look at Peter, still breathing but getting paler. Why is he getting paler? His hands are shaking and he's scanning his fingertips, eyebrows scrunched in a mix of confusion and pain alike.

“Quill?” The blue guy, Mr. Clean, crumples in agony looking down at his limbs.

Tony does nothing except watch in horror, his legs won’t move and he can practically hear the kid’s breathing from their separated state. At least he’s still there. He has to stay alive or else Tony failed. Or else Tony lost yet another piece of his family to a being he had control over, a fate he could save. 

Peter gets paler and more unsteady, his body is noticeably trembling and Tony refuses to think about what's happening to him. Nothing can be happening because Tony promised to keep him safe and Peter promised to stay alive.

Then Star-Lord is dusting right before his eyes. “Steady, Quill.”

“Oh man-” he breathes, and he’s gone too.

The sun hurts his eyes, it’s a blinding force and his lungs hurt from breathing in the ash. The remains of his pseudo- teammates fill them. His head pounds and he can’t put two and two together at why Peter is so pale all of the sudden.

“Tony.” Strange mutters, he turns in time to see the doctor falling apart too. He’s shaking, one of his wrists trembles before it’s gone completely. “There was no other way.”

Not like this, not this way-

“Mr. Stark?”

Tony turns, terrified of what he sees.

Miniscule pieces of ash are blowing off the kid’s body, he’s pale and his lips are bloody from biting down to conceal obvious pain. He’s sweating and trembling and Tony is more terrified that he’s ever been in his life. The can't be happening, not to Peter. Anybody but Peter. 

Peter’s voice is shaking as he too, wobbles on his legs like he can’t hold himself up. But he can, he has to because Tony can’t. He can’t hold the weight of a dead child so Peter has to come back as a whole. “I don’t feel so good.”

The kid looks down at his hands, they’re dusting now too. The eye contact they make a causes Tony’s heart to stop.

“You’re alright.”

He has to be, there’s no other option except taking the kid home or not going at all. Tony doesn’t know if he could leave without him.

Peter’s surging forward now. “I don’t know what’s happening, I don’t- save me!”

They crash, Peter’s legs crumple and Tony hopes his do too. He holds them up, the pain in his abdomen is numb compared to the weight in his arms and heart. The kids sobs into the dirt of his shoulder, unable to stop his hyperventilating. His hands are tight at Tony’s back, he can't help the selfish hope that they'll stay there forever. 

“I don’t wanna go, I don’t wanna go!”

A change: Tony slips a hand into his hair and a kiss to the back of his head. He closes his eyes around the dust that’s forming around them. His legs are giving out, his wounds meeting all of Peter’s. He can feel blood seeping into his chest and god, if Peter was dying before he was dusting Tony wouldn't be able to live with himself. 

Another sob, another scrape to Tony’s veins. “Sir, please, please-!”

More wheezes. Tony’s heart is clenching, he hopes it gives out.

“I don’t wanna go, I don’t wanna go!”

They fall to the ground, Peter’s grip is gone from his back as they lay on the pavement. He’s wrecked, crying and pale-faced in misery. His eyes are red and Tony tries blinked the tears from his own. It doesn’t work.

This is what he came to change: “Come home, Pete-”

“I’m sorry.” 

Peter's eyes flicker to the sky, his starts to crumple beneath him. 

The promise, the home, his heart crumbles all at once, crumbles as the kid's remaining pieces do. There's nothing left for Tony to tape back together, nothing for him to take back home. Peter was supposed to come home 

A tear slips out. He places his lips to his hands. "You promised, kid..." 

All in all, the ending was the same. No matter what Tony was to change his kid would still die, he would die without ever hearing another 'I love you.' He hopes Peter knew he was loved, but he probably didn't. It makes Tony's heart break again and again, over and over as he rubs his fingers of ash together.

Peter dusts completely away and Tony falls forward, waiting for the same to happen to him.

Tony sits up on the rock and brushes his hands and stares, ash litters his fingers-

-

He knocks the glasses off his face and tops off his glass again.

Tony needs to get Peter home to improve his damn inventions, he did promise after all.


	38. Chapter 38

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> SOME NEWS!!!! 
> 
> I'm changing the baby fic i started to 25 days of baby peter leading up to christmas!!!! emjoy this piece of shit too!

1- 

  
  


Tony was freaking out, he was officially panicking and cursing his stupid fucking father all at once. 

 

He should have called out the signs or even asked the kid why he was so lethargic lately. He had already failed a kid he’d known for a few short months. His dad was laughing at him, clouding him. 

 

They were just working in the lab on a friday night when Peter dropped like a fly. Tony almost choked when he heard the sickening crack of the kid’s frail body hitting the ground. He dropped next to him immediately and ran his calloused fingers through the curly hair. 

 

“Pete, buddy, you gotta wake up.” Tony tapped his face with more force than he’d usually lay a hand on his kid. “Eyes on me, open ‘em up.” 

 

Tony would apologize for this later. He smacked over the boy’s cheek as gently as he could and winced when teary eyes opened. 

 

He didn’t even think before pulling the kid into his arms and squeezing him tightly. 

 

“Don’t ever fucking do that again.” 


	39. sad bitch hours

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warnings for baby ugly crying aka Peter

It's getting dark

  
  
  


_ 1. _

 

Tony let's his back slide against the wood, hoping to any god that it would splinter and bleed to feel  _ anything  _ besides this _.  _ To feel what he feel now is sacrilegious. 

 

He listens to Peter sobbing, the kind that makes your throat hurt. Tony wrings his hands together and listens. From what he hears Peter is dry heaving on the other side, breathing what sounds like once a minute and it  _ hurts.  _

 

His kid just out of his grasp, so he listens from the other side of the door and wishes. Every one of Peter’s outward sobs ricochet off Tony’s chest like rain to the ground; inevitable and unstoppable. His heart the aching in a way it never has before. 

 

Tony draws his knees into his chest as he constructs a game plan. His head an audible _ thump  _ against the door. He’s trying to respect the teenager’s plead of solidarity but with every choke, every sob and every obvious cry for help he can’t he but itch to knock the door off its hinges. He can’t stop his fingers and wrist from twitching when there's more sounds of desperate retching and splattering that makes even Tony nauseous. 

 

“Peter,” he says softly, as if talking to a rabid animal “time to open up, kid.” He stands and braces his shoulder against the door, preparing to break it open.

 

Before Tony can ask Peter to step back, the lock unclicks. If he wasn’t already heartbroken, seeing the kid before him would have tipped him right over the edge. If not that, Peter’s miserably moaned ‘sorry's’ would have done the trick.

 

Tony had been observing the kid, watching as the stress and sadness began to pile up, making for an extremely anxious and irritable Spider- Baby. He hates seeing Peter worked up all the time, so far from his happy persona that Tony wonders if it's nothing more than a facade, a mask to hide the pain. Perhaps he's rubbed off on his mentee more than he'd wanted. 

 

The dam was breaking in front of him and Tony didn't know what to do. Peter isn't a machine, he doesn't break easily and is even harder to repair. Howard was right about him- unsuitable to be a dad, breaking everything he touches. 

 

His own self-loathing is interrupted with a small sniffle. He focuses in on Peter below him, head in his hands and trembling. He kneels beside him and tentatively lays a hand against the kid's shoulder blade.

 

Tony isn't expecting the sheer wail that follows, nor the armful of sobbing teenager he gets in return. The way he runs his roughened palms against Peter's back feels all too familiar in a way it shouldn't be. 

 

He holds the kid so tightly it has to be painful. Tony's ears ring at each nee sob that are now thankfully muffled by his hoodie. Be shushed the teenager in what he prays is comforting. 

 

Peter continues whimpering and letting out small sniffles. It's only when Tony's  hand goes upwards into his sweaty curl does the tension leak from .most of his body. 

 

They don't talk a out it. Tony rocks them on the cold tile ground as Peter clings on. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This honest to God took me 2 months to write and I'm so mad at how it turned out grrr fuck welcome back kiddos maybe new real fic soon I hope


	40. curse of the dying sun

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> im just... so upset this didnt turn out how i wanted. im sad ok. i spent SO MUCH TIME ON THIS and its shit so im upset but i hope yall enjoy 
> 
> do u guys read life updates? lmk because ill start adding them in lol i want friends 
> 
> follow my tumblr and ill answer some questions plz i beg u i am so bored. message me or comments down below fic ideas. i am in the mood to write and it will last for approximately two (2) hours 
> 
> enjoy kiddos

curse of the dying sun 

 

“We are that of stardust; the universe comprehending itself and we just tag along for the journey.” 

  
  


Tony had read once about what would happen if the sun died. 

 

It was unlikely, but still possible that is, that the sun would just  _ turn off.  _ How could it, with an entire world depending on it? With everything growing and blooming underneath it? With all the life and Mark's its left upon Earth's surface? 

 

After all, it was only a small star compared to an entire galaxy full of them. There were always more possibilities for others in their situation.  

 

That didn't make the sun any less important to the atmospheres beneath it.

 

The sun would die out- its would take million if years for the warmth to fade. Slowly but surely the light would extinguish and there would be nothing but the core of the star.

 

Earth would try to repair itself. It would freeze over tops of oceans to insulate the remaining water in an act of self preservation. People, animals, plants and every other living piece would wilt out if existence. The sun’s death would leave everything in its wake to mourn what had always been there, what they’d always taken advantage of. 

 

In this very moment, he thinks, the sun is dying. 

 

Tony was no stranger to death. At one point, the knowledge of its inevitability soothed him. It calmed him at every slap and bruise his father laid upon him during childhood, it calmed him in the aftermath of Jarvis’s and his mother’s death. He’d been absolutely elated when Palladium poisoning was threatening his heartbeat. 

 

Times change. 

 

As he grew older, he grew reluctant towards death. He didn’t welcome it with open arms. Tony wasn’t  _ scared _ per say, but he did want a life. He worked for that, he wanted to live it. Preferably with his patchwork of a family stitched together by an angel’s needle and thread.

 

The sun is dying before his eyes, leaving the world around them pale. 

 

Tony didn't mean to get upset with the kid. Seeing the tears slip through his lashes felt like a whole different tragedy that he  _ itched _ to fix. 

 

“I will not lose you, Peter. That has not and will never be an option.” 

 

The teenager grinded against his teeth, the audible  _ click _ of his jaw everytime a sentence was broken off into a pained gasp is something Tony felt within the lump forming in his throat. 

 

Tony swallowed hard when the cement beneath his knees crackle against their combined weight. He’s breathless, paralyzed by the sight in front of him. It makes his hands tremble unlike they ever have before. 

 

The sight of the sun dying glows brighter in his mind. 

 

Peter’s pained whines grow softer, they’re washed out by the blood- there’s so much  _ blood _ \- and Tony can’t do anything but try to stop his own flow of tears. 

 

“I’m gonna fix this, you’re not going anywhere. Not again” Tony says, yet he’s unable to promise.  _ Just like last time.  _

 

No one can hear them. The tech is broken beyond repair, they were too isolated and shaded under the trees. Last time they were under an orange sky, this time the men weren’t so lucky. Tony would rather live a thousand lifetimes than watch this. 

 

Peter is bleeding out in front of him. His smile is tainted with blood, his youth is tainted with death. As every second ticks by, another ray becomes free energy in the atmosphere. They don't know they're dying, too.

 

“Don't miss me too much, Mis'er S'ark, okay?” He smiles again and Tony wants to hate him for it. He doesn't know what he's missing out on because he won't live it all. He won't get to, neither will Tony after the sun dies. He's a bystander to the end of the world, feels it go cold under his finger tips. 

 

Tony let's his arms wrap around the kid, immediately wincing at the small yelp. He tries letting go but Peter pus him back in. He wants the touches to be soft but there's too much desperation coursing through his own veins. He feels Peter's sweaty curls against his neck and reaches up to cup the kid's nape.

 

If the sun is dying he won't let it be lonely. 

 

Flowers cannot blossom without the rays, seasons cannot cycle, life cannot pivot. 

 

“I-uh…don’t...” Peter sobbed. A disgusting,  _ break-everyone’s-heart _ sob. 

 

Tony rudded a hand down his back. “Take you time.” 

 

He choked. “I-” 

 

The sirens cut off Peter’s whimpering.

 

There are other galaxies, the sun is not the biggest star nor is it the only sun. There are hundreds of worlds like theirs, a million parallel universes. Tony thinks-  _ hopes _ \- there’s a few where Peter is okay, where Peter lives on. He prays to everything that it’s the one they’re living in now. 

 

Tony can barely remember where they are, all he can do is clamp onto Peter’s hand. He lives five seconds at a time and watches the teenager do the same. They live five seconds at a time under the night sky, oddly starless. 


	41. chapter 41

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I wrote this before endgame and it aged very poorly
> 
> Working on a new fic!!! this is a discarded chapter, should be out sometime this week. sorry for my hiatus :( exams are kicking my dick rn

_ “Pete, you okay?” His mentor’s eyebrows scrunched in concern, his voice low and soothing.  _

 

_ Peter looks up at him, silently relishing in the way the man’s hand is combing through his unbrushed curls. “I’m okay.” It’s ironic- even he knows he sounds closer to tears than either of them like.  _

 

_ Tony hums lowly and slips next to him on the white cushions. Immediately, Peter falls into his mentor, letting the tiredness of the day pull his under. The ache of exhaustion in his bones eats away at him from the inside out.  _

 

_ “Don’t get too comfy. My days of sleeping on the couch are over.” Tony grumbles despite kicking his legs onto the footstool in front of them.  _

 

_ “Is it ‘cause your old?”  _

 

_ Tony flicks the back of his ear and Peter whines dramatically. The apology comes with a smooth pet across the crown of his head. He can feel Tony’s breathing puff as he practically lays across his mentor.  _

 

_ Peter smiles up at him, but Tony’s eyes are shut. It’s tranquility.  _

 

_ “I love you.” Peter whispers- but it’s a lost cause.  _

 

The image sparkles away hazily and there’s tears pooling in his vision yet again. They slip down his cheeks and leave dents like razors would along his skin. The lab is colder than before; Iron and gauntlets and small puddles of oil- because DUM-E doesn’t chirp anymore. Tony’s bots went silent. 

 

He runs his fingers along the glasses and puts them back in his pocket. 

 

“I love you.” He chokes. “I love you I love you  _ I love you _ .” 

 

Peter covers his mouth with his hand and cries


	42. Chapter 42

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> another scrap lol

“Hey Pete, how was that Spanish test you been studyin’ for?” The AI asks him immediately after he slips on the mask of his suit.

 

“Good good.” With that, Peter chats a bit about his day, goes on as normal. The crime rate is unusually low today- maybe since it’s nearly Christmas.

 

Peter doesn’t realize he’s staring until the AI hums in his ear. “There’s a robbery ‘bout 12 blocks down. Be safe.” 

 

He rips off the mask in a clenching fury. He doesn’t care that he’s in public, that anyone could snap a photo of his identity, that people can openly see his growing anguish. Peter is alone. He wraps his skinny arms around himself and squeezes to mimic the feeling of his mentor. His own body shook with resilience but his arms could only stretch so far, not nearly enough for a shield. 

 

Peters’ tears fall and splatter to the ground. His arms fall to the side in disappointment. He stares into the eyes of the mask like it’ll bring Tony back to life. 

 

He knows it won’t. He knows damn well his mentor is not coming back. He slips the mask over his head with a shaky sigh. 

 

“Peter.” Tony voice says, softer than before. “It’s getting close to bedtime. Go on back home to Aunt Hottie.”   

 

“Don’t tell me what to do!” Peter snaps, regretting it immediately. “You’re not here. You can’t t-tell me what to do anymore.” He would give  _ anything _ to be bossed around by Tony one more time. The guilt burns in his core at his attitude even though it’s just and AI. It’s not him,  _ it’s not him. _

 

The AI’s mechanical voice sounds melancholy. “You’re right, kid. I’m not there and I’m sorry. I wish I was there to sass you into next week but I’m not. My fault. Just sleep this off, Pete.” It sounds like a plea. 

 

Peter lets out a sob through his teeth. “But everytime I wake up again you aren’t there.” He whines. 

 

“I know. I know.” The AI clicks, using the same tone as before. After a pregnant pause, it hums again. “I love you, kid. So damn much.” 


End file.
